


The Neutered Omega

by samwise_baggins



Series: The Omega Rights [1]
Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gladiators, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Medical Trauma, Omega Verse, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Violence, Slavery, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-06-10 10:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 106,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6953134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samwise_baggins/pseuds/samwise_baggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki has been a voluntary prisoner as long as he can remember, but someone crashes into his life and turns his entire reality around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Emerald Prison

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Thor was based on Norse mythology and written by Stan Lee, Larry Lieber, Jack Kirby, Ashley Edward miller, Jack Stentz, Don Payne, J. Michael Straczynzki, Mark Protosevich, and Nicole Perlman. The film was produced by: (executive producers) Louis D'Esposito, Alan Fine, Stan Lee, David Maisel, and Patricia Whitcher, (production executive) Michael Chong, (co-producers) Victoria Alonso and Craig Kyle, (producer) Kevin Feige, and (associate producer) David J. Grant. I am in no way connected with these people, and I do not claim ownership of these characters, lands, or names. I have borrowed them to share a story, and most likely not a story any of them would have written, had they had the time or no. I am making no money from this and it is just for my entertainment and that of free entertainment to a select group. Thank you.
> 
> Note: I'm a bit fascinated with Roman history, and with the strong caste system of an Alpha-Omega world I felt the addition of some of Rome's traditions and culture would not go amiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting with Loki . . .

Loki stood under the fall of warm water, one hand braced on the mosaic tiles, feet spread slightly apart, head bowed in deep thought. Locked away in his suite, the sounds of people and commerce blocked by the thick walls and decorative hangings, he could luxuriate in solitude in the large bathing room. Not many had the privilege of private facilities; most even shared sleeping quarters. Only the truly entitled had access to a personal chamber; Loki had three. His rank deserved no less.

A lithe, toned body, shoulder-length raven black curls, and eyes the color of deep winter ice, he had been called beautiful enough that the word no longer held meaning. Loki had always been attractive, almost delicate compared to other men. As a youth, his pretty features brought snickers from his male compatriots and jealous glares from females. Then with age and development the boys took notice, began surreptitiously watching him, started fantasizing about the lissome teen.

Beauty had always been Loki's most noticed feature so most people never wondered at his mind. He had a superior intellect - - and a wicked sense of self-justice. Nobody wronged him without feeling the bite of his vindictive temper, though few ever traced his crimes back to the sultry brunet; he was far too cunning to be caught.

With a sigh, Loki pushed back from the smooth tiles, reaching to turn off the flow of water. He felt clean again and, with the benefit of his private rooms, knew he could rest before his next appointment. Being beautiful and smart helped, but being good at what he did had moved Loki into a privileged status few freemen ever enjoyed - - and Loki was no freeman. He had been a slave since early childhood. Over the years he'd mastered his trade; it had helped as well that his father, Laufey, owned the establishment - - and him.

Loki gracefully stepped from the shower onto a plush ivory-colored rug. Scooping up a thick, soft towel, he began to remove the glistening drops of moisture from his smooth, pale skin. He walked through the ivory and teal accented bathing room and into the wider pearl and emerald colored living chamber. This room contained a pair of comfortably cushioned chairs beside an ornately carved table, a pile of over-stuffed pillows on a corner dais, and a large fireplace complete with lush fur pelt lying before it. The third room in the private suite contained a large four-posted bed, an armoire of beautiful clothing, and a glass-fronted curio stand containing an apparently random blend of oils and liquids in fine decanters and various expensive presents gifted over his career. One drawer held an array of jewelry in fitted velvet. The sleeping chamber had been decorated in deep beige and pale jade, carrying over the tasteful blends of greens and light creams. For a prison, Loki could do far worse.

There was no mistaking that the suite, while lavish and spacious, was indeed a prison. The door remained locked at all hours, opened by a pair of guards either to let clients in or out or to bring Loki meals and supplies. A large window opened onto a balcony towering ten stories over broken cliff side and roaring ocean. And no one answered when someone screamed. Those who worked in _The House of Laufey_ were ever at the mercy of their customers.

Fortunately, Loki was beautiful enough and skilled enough to earn only the best selection of clientele: young Betas being introduced into the world and requiring the skills to please any Alpha who might be interested, Gamma slaves being instructed in pleasuring their rich masters, and the young minor Alphas who needed confidence and swagger before hitting their final stages of puberty. None of the clients were a threat to Loki's standing, his functions in the House, or his personal secret.

Father had instructed son very carefully in hiding his own nature. As Laufey had told him time out of mind: Omegas such as Loki were an abomination to be killed as they were discovered, weeded out to stop the filthy mutations from spreading and polluting the pure Aesir genepool. Curling his lip in a snarl, Loki dropped his towel to the carpet, reaching into the curio cabinet for a vial of silvery potion as his thoughts continued in their dark twist. Father was certain to have the inhibitor potion refilled faithfully so that his son might take it every day, quelling any natural sexual inclinations. By hiding his Omega son in a brothel, dosing him to suppress the mating instincts, he assured Loki's protection from discovery. But Laufey had gone further in hiding his only male child; he had Loki teaching novices in the art of lovemaking, bringing in couples for Loki to instruct, all while keeping him celibate and undetected. Who would ever look for an Omega to _work_ in a high priced brothel?

Un-stoppering the crystal vial, Loki took a deep breath then brought the noxious potion to his lips, draining the entire contents of the small cordial. He dropped the crystal to the thick carpet where it rolled slightly until it came to rest beside the discarded towel, one small drop of silver medicine dripping into the plush beige weave. Shuddering, wiping the back of his left hand across his lips, Loki sank onto the bed and curled up on his side, awaiting the seizing which accompanied his daily dosing. He hated himself for being a reviled Omega, forcing him to hide or face public death. He hated society for their intense disgust against his nature. He hated the medication that put him through this continual pain and the emotional void which always followed the hormone suppressor. And he absolutely despised his father for ever telling him the reason Loki had been hidden away his entire life, giving him a glimpse of the freedom that lay outside the brothel, a freedom he could never have and thus would rather have never known existed.

The convulsions overtook him, driving all thoughts from Loki's keen mind, draining his energy and leaving only the pain and weakness behind. He never knew how long he remained unconscious, though the clock always assured him the blackouts usually lasted mere minutes. But the young man held no fear of the mindless sleep; it was the absolute lethargy which swamped him for up to an hour afterwards which terrified him. During his postictal state he felt trapped in his own body, unable to communicate his needs or desires, unable to defend himself. With a soft groan, Loki closed his eyes unhappily reminding himself that at least he had time to recover before his next appointment. Loki shuddered once more before blackness consumed him.


	2. Mercy outside the Arena

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now to Thor . . .

A raucous roar sounded from the arena quickly followed by a burst of applause. The wooden barriers shook under the onslaught of voices raised in catcalls, whistles, shouts of abuse, and groans of disappointment. Many a man would go home poorer that day.

As gamblers paid wagers and the long bench seats emptied, heavily shackled slaves shuffled into the wood-enclosed dirt ring to retrieve broken and butchered gladiators who could not leave on their own. These men, Betas trying to earn respect or minor Alphas without the patronage or fees to compete in more acceptable arenas, had been defeated in public combat and would not live to see another day. Their remains, if not claimed by their patrons or owners, fed the heavily chained guardian beasts responsible for defending and isolating the gladiatorial stables where the victorious lived. Very few men survived a career as a gladiator, thus those who fought were often slaves, prisoners, or the helplessly poor and weak. An Alpha Prime rarely participated and never a free, noble Alpha. But slave or free, rich or poor, criminal or war prisoner, any man who stayed alive in the arena could earn status and even wealth. If he won enough, if enough citizens loved him, if he gained a wealthy or powerful patron, a man could earn social standing and freedom.

That day a small group of men had taken one step closer to that prize.

Grinning despite his heavily bleeding right forearm and pierced, mangled left thigh, Thor strutted around the ring, waving his bloody war hammer and flexing his muscles for the dwindling crowd. Among the six survivors displaying their prowess for the crowds, Thor was tallest, broadest, and most muscular with bulging thighs and arms, a tight abdomen, and broad, well defined chest. Mud, sweat, and blood coated his feet and legs, back and arms. Hair caked with various fluids, mud plastered to his head and neck, one eye swelling shut, body battered, bruised, and slashed, Thor hardly seemed the most fortunate of men. He wore the traditional _subligaculum_ , or canvas-made loincloth, to give the illusion of modesty, but as that was the only piece of clothing, aside from leather sandals, these warriors traditionally wore, modesty was certainly not a word associated with any gladiator.

Finally the seats were empty and the victors halted their display. Thor let his broad smile fade away as he dropped the heavy weapon to the arena floor. Gladiators were forbidden personal weapons and any found carrying one outside the ring was rewarded with a very swift death. Clutching his injured thigh, trying to staunch the flow of blood, Thor merely looked for his owner, awaiting the signal that he might seek the stable healer.

As he waited, he watched a gargantuan man with over-large features and slack jaw dump a bucket of tepid water over the head of a dark-skinned gladiator then trot off to refill his bucket, his bare feet trudging through mud as his worn trousers and tunic gaped and strained against his bulk. The warrior, an exotic war prisoner known as Rig, had an unknown and somewhat generous patron. Rig had only joined the stable a month previously, but his equipment was of superior quality, his skills finely honed. He had even been assigned a personal slave to tend to his needs, the half-wit Hugi. No one doubted that, provided Rig did nothing foolish, he would soon move on to a larger, more prestigious arena. Many competitors deliberately aimed to slay Rig in combat, hoping to win favor with his obviously rich patron. A poor strategy at best, as the unnecessary death of a favored gladiator would often lead to punishment or even death for the careless killer.

Thor alone wished the prisoner well, not begrudging the dark-skinned, golden-eyed warrior his good fortune, despite his own fifteen years of ownership by a mediocre man of poor business sense. One did not pick and choose patrons; the patrons did the choosing. The only way Thor could gain a better patron and thus access to arenas with greater rewards would be in displaying his prowess on the battlefield in front of a person of wealth or prestige willing to buy his debt - - or rather, the debt of his father. Frowning, pushing away the old bitterness over his past, Thor once more scanned the small knot of men, owners and patrons. Thor needed medical attention but could not seek it without permission - - such was a rule of the stable.

Fortunately the small group seemed to be dissipating. They drifted away, one after another, to check on their own interests, until only a pair remained in heated debate, one of them Thor's owner, Sigurd. As the pair turned and began to walk towards Thor, the gladiator painfully dropped to one knee, crossing his left arm over his chest and bowing his head in deference for his debt owner; he prayed silently that the man would allow the slaves to tend to his bloody battle wounds. Already, Thor could feel fresh blood sliding down his thigh and into the mud.

Stopping in front of the kneeling slave, the unknown citizen wrinkled his nose in disgust, barely glancing over the victorious warrior. Instead, he sneered and turned to Thor's patron. "He has the look of an Alpha, but he smells of Gamma. I begin to wonder at the victories you claim for him, Sigurd." Before the slave owner could react to the insult, the richly dressed patron went on. "I'll not be cozened into displaying a mewling Gamma in the arena, no matter his looks. I have better things to do this day." The man waved a hand dismissively and strode away, boots squelching in the muck, body set in offended, angry lines.

Sigurd shook his head, raising his voice in confusion. "Why does not one man believe me that this slave is a Beta? Do they think I lie?"

A voice rose from the stands. "He has the stink of a child, Sigurd." Unnoticed until he spoke, a tall, lean warrior dressed in fine clothes and equipped with decorated sword, stood, smiling. He tossed his head slightly, flipping his light brown hair from his brown eyes, a handsome man of wealth and, by the rank marks on his shoulder, prestige. He strode leisurely from the bench seats towards the arena ring, left hand resting almost carelessly on sword hilt. "Have you not sexed him yet, man?" As he stopped before Sigurd, Thor, and Rig, the dark-skinned gladiator crossed his left arm over his chest and bowed down, signally his allegiance to the wealthy citizen.

The man nodded acknowledgement to his slave and turned to Sigurd. "Until the gladiator is sexed, his true musk won't release and no one will be able to judge what he is. They'll believe the lad is a Gamma no matter how many he slays or how well he struts. No one wishes to buy a Gamma for fighting, a sport best left to Betas and those Alphas too poor to join the real army. A Gamma," the man glanced over the bleeding, bruised form of Thor, "is only worthy of slavery, or perhaps work in a pleasure house if pretty enough."

"But, Fandral, can they not see he is more the warrior than the entire stable . . . save your lad, of course." Sigurd seemed oblivious to Thor's pain or the glares of another of his slaves nearby, a bruiser slightly smaller than Thor; the slave owner was too earnest in his conversation with the royal guard - - even the gladiatorial slaves knew who served the royal house of the All Father, King Odin Borson.

With a merry laugh, Fandral shook his head, hair softly swishing over his strong shoulders. "The only way you'll convince anyone that the fights are real, and not a show to unload an undesirable slave, is to have him sexed. Then his true musk will release and men will take a chance on him, might even breed this one if he proves to be an Alpha. Breeders are worth ten times the cost of any normal gladiator." Fandral looked over Thor once more and turned back to Sigurd. "He is come of age, is he not?"

The answer was slow in coming as Sigurd thought over the question. Finally, the man nodded, green eyes narrowing in thought, ignoring the soft breeze through his own dark brown locks. "Yes, I've had him fifteen years and . . . Donar, your age!"

"Twenty-two summers, my master," Thor replied promptly, listening intently. He thought about the information he'd overheard. _'My master wishes to sell me?'_ But if Sigurd's lament was genuine, he wanted to sell Thor higher up the arena chain, not lower, and that was good news.

"Then sex him man!" Fandral laughed again. "It will be pure profit in the end. You can have it done properly at any notable pleasure house. Better than losing money on the deal or keeping him until he's broken and dead."

Sigurd thought slowly again. Finally he called "Slave, bind Donar's wounds. Toss a bucket on him!" He shook his head, a fierce frown crumpling his face. "I am almost late for Lord Ulric. He wishes to discuss a new shipment of trainees. I've no time for this."

Fandral clapped Sigurd on the shoulder and offered "I'm on my way to a pleasure house to have my own Rig sexed. I can take your Donar with me and drop him back at the stable when I return Rig."

Considering carefully, the slave owner finally nodded consent. "As you're bringing your Rig, I'll welcome you to bring my Donar. And could you bring my Tyr as well? It's about time he sold, and he'll need the sexing if you speak true. He's naught but part the size of Donar and needs all the selling power he can get." The bruiser behind him nearly growled but stopped himself. Tyr, a smaller, slightly darker man than Thor, but incredibly alike in features, glared at the other gladiator, as if he felt Thor's greater size a personal insult to his own impressive stature. In order to entice Fandral to increase his responsibility over the next few hours, Sigurd added, "do this for me, Fandral, and I shall have your Rig live in the stables freely fed and cared for for . . ." he measured amounts and costs in his head then ended "a fortnight."

"Agreed, Sigurd. I'll have the pair sexed well before that fortnight is over." Fandral grinned amiably at Sigurd who seemed shocked then grateful for the proclamation.

The slave owner turned and called out "hurry now, slaves, bind and drench him! Lord Fandral cannot wait all day!" He grinned in relief at Fandral and claimed, "you'll not regret this, my lord! Truly the Norns are at work this hour."

He turned and hurried away, not seeing Fandral's calculating perusal of Thor and Tyr nor hearing his whispered "Truly we are blessed by fortune."

Thor could not fathom what the royal guard meant by those words. Instead, he sighed in resignation as a pair of slaves tied rags over his forearm and thigh then doused him with a bucket of none-too-clean water. The treatment did nothing for his battle stink, leaving him muddier than ever and setting Thor up for a raging infection if her weren't treated more thoroughly soon.

Watching with a sudden fierce frown, Fandral wrinkled his nose in disgust at the unclean, disreputable appearance of two of the slaves he was to bring to a fancy establishment. With a sigh, he gathered himself and gestured towards the arena gate, "follow me, lads. We'll make men of you yet." Failing to hide his distaste, Fandral watched the three men pass by and climb into the open cart at which he pointed. Finally, the royal guard mounted the front seat and the driver whipped up his oxen. The cart lumbered across town, never stopping for anyone or anything; Fandral's rank was high enough that other people gave way to him.

After long, uncomfortable minutes, Thor raised his head to stare unabashedly at the grand mansion on the outskirts of town. Sturdily built of white brick with glazed windows, the four storied building perched at the top of the cliffside, like a great seabird about to take wing. The cart stopped before the wide mahogany double-doors, and the driver called gruffly, "out slaves." Thor obeyed, wincing and trying to will life back into his dead-feeling injured leg.

Fandral frowned as he watched the big blonde gladiator stumble. With a small shake of his head, the citizen turned and led the gladiators up a flight of curved, swept stairs and into the building, their footsteps echoing once they strode into the cavernous great hall. White veined marble floors, carved wooden furniture, and expensive woven tapestries gave the place the feel of a rich man's private home rather than a public brothel. Thor wondered if somehow he had misunderstood Fandral's offer to Sigurd back at the stable.

From behind a decorative desk, seated on a deep burgundy cushioned chair, an attractive older woman, a Beta most probably, rose and called in a sweet voice, "Welcome to _The House of Laufey_ , gentlemen. Are you here by appointment?" Her question seemed rhetorical as even Thor knew that the more expensive pleasure houses ran by invitation and appointment only, to keep out the poor peasantry.

Smiling flirtatiously, Fandral approached the woman and bowed slightly. "Madame. I have an appointment for my man Rig; he's to be tended this nuncheon."

She ran a well manicured finger down a column of marks in her hide-bound ledger. Dipping a quill into a pot of ink, she made a mark about two-thirds down the page, but Thor found no interest in the act. He was more interested in his grand surroundings than the mysteries of writing. She drew his attention when she spoke, though. "Yes, he is listed to meet with Sunniva. And the other men?" She looked up, finger still near the mark she had made.

"Tyr and Donar," Fandral clarified. "They belong to Sigurd, a fellow patron, and are both victors in the arena today. He considers it time to have them sexed so they might be advanced." Turning, Fandral let his smile wash over the three gladiators and said, "the smaller one is called Tyr." He turned back to the Beta at the desk, missing Tyr's glare of malice at his back. Fandral went on obliviously, "and the larger is called Donar. Can you fill them in, perhaps? Laufey's always been such an accommodating gentleman in the past, and I would consider it a personal favor." Fandral leaned a bit closer, allowing his scent combination of his Alpha musk and some unnamed perfume tease her nostrils.

She flushed and cleared her throat almost delicately. Checking down the column once more, she came to a row which only had half the marks of other rows. "Well, yes, my lord. I do have a Beta available." She glanced up, eyes widening, pupils dilating as she tried to control her innate reaction to the Alpha guard in front of her. "She's new, but skilled." Swallowing, she took in the soft, open collared shirt and snug trousers of expensive embroidered material Fandral sported. Obvious in her eyes, besides desire, was the thought that by refusing Fandral's request, she risked the wrath of Laufey. Finally, she tore her eyes away from the dominant male before her and looked down at the columns, searching the neat marks a third time until her finger came to rest on the only half-line left. With a sigh, the woman apparently didn't dare to glance up. "We have only one other availability: a Gamma used only to train others in pleasure." She looked up, a flush to her cheeks. "Not to rut," she finished.

Thor caught Tyr's foul glare, as if he had control over whether Tyr would get to have sex with a Beta or a lowly Gamma. Thor ignored the other man, a brute in the ring and not much more pleasant out of the arena.

"Ah," Fandral nodded and looked over the pair of blond men. Studying them briefly, he nodded again. "That's fine. I doubt Donar's up to that much . . . uh . . . stimulation right now with those victory badges. Give the Beta to Tyr," Fandral turned back to the servant, missing Tyr's superior gloat. "Give Donar the Gamma. At least this Gamma can train him a few tricks until he's healed enough." Fandral paused, as if thinking, then smiled. "Mark him for the nuncheon availability all sennight, that's a love. He can rest here as well as in the stable as he heals for his next bout."

Tyr shot a triumphant sneer over at the taller, broader Thor, but Thor merely returned the look with an amused grin. Did Tyr realize that his pleasure would only be the one night, while Thor was being offered at least a week of sex? He thought not; Tyr had never been the cleverest gladiator in the stable. Turning back to the Beta, Thor watched as she hesitated before marking her ledger on the line apparently denoting the Gamma's availability.

His ears perked as he heard her mumble "it isn't as if I've overbooked that pampered Gamma. After all, what could anyone possibly need with all that free time?"

Finally, she signaled a pair of Gamma slaves to lead Tyr down the first floor hall towards the assigned Beta's quarters. She took a key from a drawer in her desk and took a breath, her hand shaking slightly as she glanced down the hall. Muttering, she said "the guards won't be back for an hour; I'll have to trust nothing will happen." Apparently not seeing Thor's curious interest, she bowed her head to Fandral. "Follow me, please."

The Beta servant led the trio of men up two flights of stairs, ignoring Thor's increasing limp but wrinkling her nose at the filth left in the gladiator's wake. At the third floor, she gestured another Gamma to lead Rig down one hall towards his assigned room and another to guide Fandral off to one of the reserved rooms, held for wealthy patrons to enjoy an exotic, well trained Beta at their leisure.

Finally, she led Thor up a third flight of steps to the top floor, down a carpeted corridor to the end, and unlocked the large mahogany door with the key from her desk. Opening the door, she gestured inside and said, "right in there." Thor limped inside and the door swung shut, the lock securing once more.

 _'What the hell?'_ He turned and frowned, puzzled as to why she would lock the door. Then he realized _'because I'm a slave, and they don't want me to run away.'_ Frowning, Thor felt indignation; as if he would throw away his honor by trying to run out on his debt. Feeling his nails bite into his palms, Thor shook out his large hands and shook his blond head. They had no reason to know he would stay; they treated him like any other slave. Look how they kept the Gamma locked in, after all.

Finally, Thor turned, taking in the grand surroundings, the plush carpets, and comfortable looking furniture, peering around at the richly decorated room. He felt awkward to be trailing mud and blood through the pristine room. Thor couldn't see the woman who would be training him in the art of sex so set off to find her. He strode through the living space and opened the door to his right - - - the bathing chamber though luxurious sat empty. He then went to the left-hand door, opening it.

And was struck by the sight of the sleep-mussed beauty just pushing to a sitting position on the bed. Wet raven black curls in a carefree tumble, ice green eyes wide and confused, and smooth pale skin without a blemish greeted his stunned eyes. Nor did any clothing hide that gloriously toned body. Thor swallowed at the sight of the delicate creature apparently just rousing from sleep.

This Gamma was no female.

Truly this was the most exquisite creature he'd ever seen. Thor surprisingly didn't feel any discomfort in the realization that he'd been assigned to a male lover. Naturally, he couldn't see how he was supposed to be sexed by another male, but they weren't actually supposed to rut so there had to be other ways sex could happen. Most troubling though was the dark-haired man's lack of scent, as if he were a virgin child. Thor worried _'has he even come of age? Is this Laufey peddling children?'_

Thor took a step closer, noting the man's doe-like eyes widen, a haunted, hunted look in the green-blue depths. Instinctively Thor raised his good left hand and softly called "Shh, little one, do not fear. In the arena I am called Donar. I have been assigned to love you."


	3. A Lesson Most Unwelcome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to Loki . . .

The click of his outer door opening drew Loki from his distracted lethargy. Sluggish, trying to pull his scattered thoughts together, he wondered _'could it really be that late?'_ He'd never lost more than an hour after his dose; his next appointment had always been scheduled for early evening . . . several hours out surely.

At the sound of somebody moving though his personal suite, Loki frowned, struggling to push up to a sitting position on his bed.

Then the scent hit him: stale sweat, fresh blood, and . . . _'Oh, Norns, be merciful on me!'_ Loki's eyes widened in distress, pupils dilating as he fought his reaction to the unmistakable musk of an Alpha Prime. Unsexed, if Loki was any judge, but strong and very masculine, the man's scent threatened to overpower him. A flash of regret for having the over-sensitive olfactory of an Omega washed over Loki, but he pushed it away, trying to get himself under control.

The sleep room door opened and there stood the epitome of manhood: tall, broad, muscular, and apparently fresh from battle.

 _'What is Laufey thinking?'_ Loki fought panic. His father had always been sadistic, but he'd never before allowed a Prime anywhere near his son. That close to the pure testosterone - - the man's musk fought the hormone suppressor, threatening to expose Loki's shame. A jolt of fear trembled through him and he struggled to process the Alpha's words.

"Shh, little one, do not fear. In the arena I am called Donar. I have been assigned to love you."

"Love me?" he responded, his voice husky with desire and the after-effects of his inhibitor drug. "No!" Gathering his strength, Loki gracefully rose from his bed and strode purposely towards his armoire. "No, no, no. You are _not_ here to love me. _Nobody_ loves me." Pulling out the first robe he felt, a slinky, silky emerald green that whispered luxuriously over his skin, Loki thrust his arms into the material and spun around, not even bothering to tie it shut. Crossing his arms, he narrowed his vivid green eyes. "No, you aren't here for me, you idiot." Suddenly, the glaring absence of anyone else finally sank into Loki's medication-sluggish mind. "And where's your partner . . . Donar, was it? I can hardly demonstrate without her."

Thor smiled widely at the lovely man, apparently enjoying how Loki's flustered state brought a flush to his pale cheeks and made his chest heave slightly as his breath sped up. "I have no partner, little one. I am here for you alone." He spread his arms as if to display himself as some trophy awarded at the end of combat.

"No!" Loki shook his head, curls falling over one shoulder to ripple over his creamy skin. "You cannot be here, Donar. Leave." In rising desperation, the lean brunet strode past the mountain of pure maleness, expecting the blond warrior to follow into the main living area. "I insist you leave. I have no free time for pranks. My schedule is strictly . . ."

The sound of a merry chuckle stopped him; the sound reverberated and something deep inside began to ache. Loki fought his panic. Even with the inhibitor, this man's overabundance of hormones threatened to throw Loki into a heat if he was not careful. And then death would follow swiftly.

The dire thought acted as a dose of ice water, cooling Loki's Omega needs.

He reached for the door, but the chuckle came again. "I cannot leave, little one. We are locked in and the guards are not available for at least an hour."

Loki sagged, leaning a supporting hand against the door to prevent a total collapse. Taking a shaky breath, Loki choked on the man's light musk. _'Thank the Gods he's not been sexed. I'd never keep control if his musk was in full strength.'_ Loki straightened and carefully tied his robe shut, trying to hide the tremble of need in his hands. _'No, foolish one, you cannot allow this. It means death. You know it means death,'_ he reminded his willful hormones.

Finally, Loki turned gracefully, in all appearance calm and collected. He kept his eyes level with the broadly smiling bruised face with the swollen black eye. "Very well. There has been a misunderstanding. I only train couples in pleasuring one another. Laufey will extend his sincerest apology for his error and provide you with your desired encounter soon. Until then, I shall tend you."

The man nodded, his sunny smile almost intoxicating, and Loki wondered if he was simple-minded as well as practically dead. Beginning to lose patience with the nodding man dripping various unspeakable fluids all over the ivory carpet, Loki thrust his left hand out, pointing at the right-hand room. "Into the shower. You are destroying my carpet."

If he expected a retaliatory insult, he would have been disappointed as the blond merely turned and limped into the bathing room. Loki followed and stopped short in the doorway, watching the other man take in the beautiful room as if most pleased. Loki looked over the long-time familiar space: a beautifully carved commode and sink of white-veined marble, a matching shower that could fit four large men, and a covered relaxing tub used to soothe the muscles and stimulate the senses of his most nervous pairs. Plush towels and washcloths, various oils and soaps, and his simple personal care items lay in convenient locations around the room, marking the space as home.

"This is a glorious bathing room, little one." The gladiator turned to him and his smile softened from full radiant beam to something almost reaching normal amusement. "Certainly it is as large as the communal bathing pool in the stable."

"Stable?" Loki couldn't help but ask in surprise. He hadn't taken this man for a farmer, nor had he thought people would be required to bathe with their animals. Truly, there was much Laufey had yet to tell him about the outside world he hoped to one day see, even with the high danger he would face beyond his father's protective enclosure.

The man called Donar nodded stepping closer to Loki, stealing the leaner man's breath for a heartbeat or two. "Yes, the stables where I live."

"Live?" Loki felt shock to think not only did peasants bathe with their animals, but they actually lived with the beasts.

Throwing back his head and letting out a merry laugh, the big man seemed to suddenly understand Loki's confusion. "Gladiator stables, little one. Where gladiators live and train to fight in the arena." He turned and climbed into the shower, and Loki wondered how he could have ever felt the space large enough for four people. This brute took up at least half of the room. The gladiator grimaced and leaned up against the tiled wall then removed his loincloth and tossed it to the bathing room floor.

Sighing, Loki realized that this man was seriously injured. He needed cleaning and tending. Whatever fool determined to have him sexed in this condition had either been the stupidest man in existence or plotting the warrior's death. Loki rather hoped for the first option; he found he disliked the idea that someone wanted the big man dead.

Loki untied his robe's belt, letting the material slip off his shoulders and down his back, to pool on the floor. Stepping into the shower with his erstwhile client, Loki placed a hand against the broad, muscular chest and gave a small push. It was enough to send the man reeling backwards, and the gladiator sank down onto the bathing bench near the back of the stall. "You need tending, Donar."

The man's voice rumbled softly, catching Loki's attention and drawing his eyes to meet summer-sky blue ones. "My fighting name is Donar, little one. I was born Thor Odinson."

"Odinson? Really?" Loki stepped from the shower to quickly collect medical supplies he kept in the sink cabinet; at times his clients went into heat with one another and injuries often ensued. Carrying an armful back to the shower and placing it on the floor just outside the entry arch, Loki began turning the taps and adjusting the heat of the flowing water. "Your father shares a name with the Allfather?"

"Yes, I suppose he did," Thor said.

His eyes watched every move Loki made, but the brunet did not feel self-conscious in the least. He knew that he was graceful and pleasurable to look at; he had been raised to be so. Loki would be more shocked if the man didn't stare at him. "And you are a gladiator . . . Thor," he added with almost a purr in his voice then mentally shook himself. _'Gods, I need another dose. This man will kill me . . . literally.'_ Once more, Loki felt his rising desire quash at the stark reality of his precarious existence.

"Yes, I am, little one," Thor replied with a smile of what suspiciously seemed like pride.

Head snapping up suddenly, Loki frowned, studying Thor. He felt nearly overwhelmed with the numerous questions he'd never been permitted to ask about a lifestyle so vastly different from his own. Hunger reflected in his green eyes, and Loki soaked a soft cloth in the water then lathered it with a harsh but antiseptic soap. "My name is Loki," he said, trying to organize his thoughts. "And your father chose this path for you, Thor?" Loki began washing the man's injuries, leaving the two bedraggled rags tied around his limbs for the time being.

A rumble sounded, drawing Loki's eyes before he realized it was Thor's laughter: a delicious sound he had to fight to ignore.

"Not willingly, no, Loki. I was seven and do not recall much, but my master has told me the details. My father had great debt and Sigurd purchased the debt. I am to fight in the ring until Sigurd makes enough money to erase the debt." Thor met Loki's curious gaze and offered another sunny smile. "He wishes me sexed so I will sell better. That means my debt will be paid quicker, and I can be a freeman again."

Nodding, Loki carefully kept his mind on the conversation rather than the feel of the man below his hands and the musky scent enhanced slightly by the warm water. "Well, I believe you have fared better than our Allfather's sons. Laufey has said they were stolen in youth and have never been found." He stood and moved around to Thor's back, scrubbing the large expanse of broad muscle there. "Laufey wondered if they were ransomed and the Allfather refused to negotiate."

Thor shook his head. "I do not think a man would refuse to rescue his sons, Loki. There must be something more to that tale."

Loki shrugged one shoulder gracefully and said, "Odin Borson has always been the Alpha of all Alphas. He would not take kindly to someone trying to dominate him even at the cost of his only children."

"If it was my child," Thor growled, "I would kill the man who took him and not rest until I had the child back."

The unexpectedly fierce comment brought a chuckle to Loki's lips and he smiled down at the big blond bruiser. At Thor's sudden intake of breath, Loki dropped the smile and stepped back towards the water spout, turning his back as he rinsed the cloth and tried to gather himself once more.

Apparently, Thor sensed his withdrawal because the gladiator merely sat silently waiting and watching. Finally, Loki turned and began unwinding the binding on Thor's right arm. At the sight of the ragged slice, Loki frowned deeply. "What did this?" He carefully cleaned the torn flesh planning how to repair the damage.

"A sword," Thor answered promptly. "The man fought well but could not match me. He has gone to the ground now and may even dine in the halls of Valhalla."

That drew Loki's attention, and he studied the merry-seeming man, wondering that he could speak of death so nonchalantly. Truly, this Thor fascinated him . . . a dangerous idea at best. Loki frowned and nodded. "Stay still. This will hurt." At Thor's rumble of acquiescence, Loki quickly stitched the arm wound then bound it in clean cloth.

 _'Impressive, not even a wince.'_ Loki refused to smile at his personal observation. He switched to the thigh, unbinding it, but a hiss of shock escaped the man when he saw the mangled gore of Thor's leg. "Did someone wish you dead, Thor?" he asked in horror.

"Of course," Thor replied, studying his torn, gouged flesh almost impassively. "That came from Tyr and his spear, a weapon he favors." Glancing up, Thor seemed to realize that Loki didn't understand the arena. "We live or die for the pleasure of spectators, little one. Gladiators fight for survival and the right to advance. In the ring, there is no fealty or brotherhood, just survival and victory or death."

Swallowing the bile which threatened to choke him, Loki tried to gently wash the injury, determining how he could repair the torn muscle and reattach the dangling tissue. Treating the question as an academic one, Loki regained control and asked softly, "so you fight until the last man then?"

Thor placed a large hand over Loki's smaller one. "No, little one. We fight until our patrons tell us to stop. Gladiators are expensive, and dead gladiators make no profit. But," he dropped his hand, "if one fights poorly in the ring, a patron may be disinclined to spare that life. The spectators wager on the competitions, and they must be pleased as well by the show. The gladiator who has followers stands a better chance of being granted clemency than an unpopular one."

Loki shuddered and knew it wasn't because he stood nude and half wet in a shower stall. "A brutish life, Thor."

"Yes," he agreed then smiled. "But it is a life, Loki. And one I have been blessed to be very good at thus far."

Eyeing the thigh wound he had begun to clean, Loki felt dubious about Thor's confidence in his own abilities. Obviously this Tyr wanted the big blond dead. With a grimace, Loki changed the subject slightly. "And how much debt have you left, Thor?"

A smile broke out on the man's face. "I know not. My master will tell me when it is paid."

"What?" Shock coursed through the slender man and he stilled his hands, turning horrified eyes on the gladiator. "And you trust this man to tell you true, Thor?"

Thor nodded, but his smile slipped a bit. "Of course. He has treated me well."

Loki shook his head. "You idiot," he chastised. "At least demand to see the accounts to verify his words, Thor. Surely if he is that fair-minded he will not begrudge your checking his figures."

"Check his figures?" Thor looked puzzled then laughed in apparent amusement. "Loki, I cannot check his figures. I do not know how to read or write, nor how to sum. Gladiators are not instructed in such useless information."

"Useless?" Loki bridled at the inadvertent slight. Knowledge had always been one of his most prized possessions. "How is knowing things useless? Without numbers, you must trust others to fairly pay you. Without words, you are left without any knowledge save what someone deems to bestow upon you. If you win your freedom, how will you support yourself, Thor? Will you trust merchants not to cheat you? Revenuers not to over tax you? Or if you have a family and the child falls ill? How will you know the apothecary gave you the correct medicine? How will you know what dose to administer?" As his tirade built, Loki's voice rose and practically vibrated in passion, his face flushing with emotion.

He was brought to complete silence though by the hands suddenly grasping his hips. "You are magnificent, little one!" Thor sounded impressed, almost reverent, as Loki looked down at the seated man, noting the wide, summer blue eyes studying him openly.

"Well," Loki took a shuddering breath, fighting once more for control. What this man did to him! "If I am so magnificent, I hope I have instilled in you the desire to learn."

Thor grinned. "No, but I do like your passion."

Loki flushed and stepped back out of the circle of Thor's hands. "Well, I would passionately like to sew that mess up now, so remain still," he commanded, frowning fiercely down at Thor.

Over fifteen minutes of silence, save for the occasional suppressed whimper from Thor, passed as Loki repaired the spear wound. Finally, shaking at the intense effort, Loki stepped back and let the warm water splash over his calves. "Done," he breathed turning to wash off his hands. Carefully he dabbed the remaining blood from Thor's thigh then bandaged it securely. "Now, Thor, do not get those stitches wet for at least a sennight. You risk infection coming in with the water if you do." Forestalling the obvious question about bathing himself, Loki held up a hand and said "use a cloth and do what I did here today, bathe without stepping under the water."

The gladiator nodded and wiped a hand over his slightly paler face. "Very well, Loki, I shall remember." Truly impressive was the gladiator's control.

"Good," Loki nodded and picked up a fresh cloth, wetting and lathering it with soft soap this time. He stepped back between Thor's thighs and began to rub the cloth over Thor's chest, trying to wash away the pain of treatment, despite already having cleaned the man. He often used the technique to sooth an embarrassed client.

The minor trick worked as Thor smiled, his posture beginning to loosen. Apparently it worked better than Loki had anticipated because a warm hand reached over and gently took hold of his shaft, stroking once down the length.

Loki froze, sucking in his breath, mind nearly going blank in panic.

"You are so slender, little one. I did not realize that men could be so different in their staves."

"Do not touch me," Loki growled out and slapped the big man's hand away, face flushed, breath heaving. He fumbled behind him to turn the tap to complete icy coldness, feeling the water hit the backs of his legs, hoping to dispel the pleasurable sensation Thor had created with his large, calloused hand.

Thor blinked, surprise crossing his face. "I did not mean to hurt you, Loki. I was curious only." He lifted both hands to show he was in earnest.

Shuddering, Loki nodded, but didn't step closer. His eyes fell to Thor's lap in reluctant curiosity. He gulped, green eyes widening, at the sight of the massive organ beginning to rise proudly from a mass of dusky blond curls. "Well, you are certainly _not_ slender," he said, absently licking his lips.

Thor groaned and his manhood pulsed in response.

 _'No, this can't happen,'_ Loki thought desperately. Trying to head off what he feared, the desperate brunet said, "you may tend yourself, Thor. I will take no offense."

The blond looked down then back up at Loki and shrugged. "It goes away after some time, Loki. I cannot control it."

"What?" Loki felt shocked yet again. "Have you never relieved yourself, Thor?"

"No," Thor responded slowly, as if not understanding.

Loki groaned and dropped to his knees before Thor. Taking a deep breath, smelling the faint Alpha musk and berating himself for foolishness, Loki soaped his hands and reached over. He almost held his breath as he encircled Thor's massive tool in both hands. "Like this, idiot," he spoke with a seductive purr as he began to manipulate the velvety hardness.

After a few seconds, Thor's breath became a bit more shallow and he whimpered in pleasure. Slowly, he wrapped his big hand over Loki's and mirrored the silky sliding movement, his member pulsing each time their joined hands stroked down to caress his large sensitive scrotum. Loki lifted his eyes, meeting Thor's, and the two seemed to breath in unison as they stroked in ever increasing rhythm.

Thor's orgasm came quickly under the combined stimulus, and the big man threw back his head, snarling in feral instinct as his cock pulsed and spewed cum all over their combined hands. His other hand tangled in Loki's lush curls, tugging almost painfully as the gladiator rode wave after wave of pleasure. Finally, panting as if he'd just come from battle, Thor let out a low groan and collapsed backwards, his broad back hitting the tiled wall and preventing him from falling from the seat.

Loki slowly drew his hands from Thor's massive organ, lowering his eyes at last. He'd watched Thor the entire time, enraptured by the beauty of the big man's pleasure. Gently, careful of the over-stimulated flesh, Loki washed Thor's seed from his manhood, thighs, and hands, making sure the bandaging remained undisturbed. His hands shook as he fought his own desire, praying the earlier dose of inhibitor would hold off his heat as it had always done before. But Loki couldn't help longing for that forbidden heat; he longed to be thrown to the ground and filled by this massive Prime.

With a small cry, Loki pulled back his hands as if burnt and sprang from the shower, turning on the sink faucet full cold and shoving both hands under the pounding water until shivers wracked him and his tell-tale erection shriveled up.

"Little one," Thor's voice filled with worry and Loki heard the big man push up from the bench and limp from the shower. When Thor touched his shoulder, Loki jerked away and moved to the door.

"No! Do not touch me! Clothe yourself!" Loki threw the door open and stalked into the living area, fighting for control. His entire body began to shake with the effort to suppress his lust. Desperately, he looked around and spotted the quill sharpener on the table. As he heard Thor move around the bathroom, water still running, Loki grabbed the small, inoffensive blade and plunged it directly into his right forearm. The intense pain drove out all sense of desire, leaving him shaking, panting, and feeling a bit weak. He leaned against the table, slowly removed the blade, and wrapped his hand over the bloody wound.

Thor strode out, his loincloth soaking wet but cleaner than before. "Loki? What . . ." his eyes fell to the blood seeping around Loki's fingers and he frowned, taking in the trembling man before him. Coming to some unspoken decision, Thor strode back into the bathing room and re-emerged with some of Loki's bandaging supplies. "Let me help you, little one," he soothed, holding out the linen.

Loki shook his head, reached out a trembling hand, and snatched the cloth. "No. Do you not understand, idiot? No one touches me!"

The insult seemed to go unnoticed as always and Thor held his hands up soothingly once more. Practically cooing to the distressed Loki, he asked softly "who hurt you, little one?"

Of all the things the big man could have said to him, that was not something which had crossed Loki's thoughts. He frowned, applying pressure to the bandage over his self-inflicted injury. "Hurt me?"

"Yes," Thor nodded taking a soft step. "Who hurt you? Did you even know his name?"

"Name?" Loki replied dumbly, mind whirling in pain and confusion. _'What the hell does he mean by that?'_

Thor took another careful step and said "did he beat you? Rape you? Is that why you are so afraid of being touched?"

Sudden understanding came to Loki and he rolled his eyes. The big lout was endearing in his concern. "No, I . . ."

A fierce light suddenly entered Thor's blue eyes and he scowled. "It was Laufey," he guessed. "Laufey hurt you." Real anger rose in the gladiator's voice.

"No," Loki protested, "it is not what you're thinking . . ."

The blond drew up to his impressive six foot plus height. Thunder seemed to flash in his eyes as he growled out, "he cannot be permitted to get away with this . . ."

Desperately, Loki put his free hand against Thor's massive chest and pushed firmly enough to draw the bigger man's attention. "Thor, my name is Loki Laufeyson."

Confusion slammed down over Thor's blue eyes and he frowned down at Loki. Slowly, he asked "Laufey's . . . son?" Suddenly, shock filled his face and he shook his head in horror. "He abuses his own son?"

"What?" Loki shook his head again. "No, Thor, he protects me." Thor's anger terrified Loki almost as much as his Alpha nature. He knew he had to calm the man down so he wouldn't do something foolish - - like attack a freeman.

Thor gently removed Loki's hand from his chest and enfolded it in his own. "He protects you by locking you in like a slave? By requiring you to whore yourself?"

Mouth dropping open in shock, Loki began to protest the accusations but a knock came on the outer door. Sudden relief flooded him as he silently embraced the reprieve from the troubling encounter. Loki called loudly in a semblance of his normal calm control "yes, he is ready." Ignoring his own complete nudity, he crossed his arms over his chest.

As two guards came in and flanked him, Thor stood helplessly watching Loki with large blue eyes. Loki gave him a small nod and said, "remember, do not get the stitches wet, Donar. And your master should keep you out of the arena for at least a sennight."

One guard nudged Thor's arm carefully, but the blond merely stepped away from him, his large stride eating up the space between him and Loki. He stopped right in front of the darker man and reached up both hands, cupping Loki's face. Gently, Thor leaned in and kissed Loki. It was over in a heartbeat, but as Thor slowly pulled back, Loki's lips seemed to want to cling to Thor's.

Loki caught his breath in his throat and Thor straightened and offered a shadow of his sunny smile. "Thank you, little one," he said softly. Then Thor turned and limped out the door, the guards following, looking bemused at the unexpected contact the imprisoned Loki had allowed.

Striding after them, Loki called "Ingolf . . ."

One of the guards turned with a frown as the other stopped Thor from going on without them. "What do you want?"

"My medicine . . ." Loki said, almost desperately, but had to stop. He tried to organize his scattered thoughts, trying to recall what Laufey had told the staff the medicine was for. He certainly wouldn't have advertised his son's Omega nature, so he had to have some reason for dosing Loki every day. _'What did he claim? Migraine? Fever?'_ "For my seizures," Loki called. "I don't feel well, and I still have an appointment this evening.

Ingolf looked suddenly sympathetic and nodded, confirming Loki's wild guess. "I'll send it up with you luncheon. Until then, do as Laufey has instructed. Lie down, put something in your mouth so you will not bite yourself, and try to relax. Do not become distraught." He shut the door and the key sounded in the lock.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Loki did not head to bed. Instead, he moved back to the bathing room. He knew that the convulsions only came _after_ he took the hormone inhibitor, and so he was in no danger as he stepped into the shower, changing the water to a soothing warm wash. Ignoring his small, throbbing knife wound, Loki reached over and grabbed the soft soap, carefully coating his stiffening manhood. Closing his eyes, Loki let the memory of Thor wash over him as he stroked himself: those large hands, the faint Alpha musk, that immense staff. He softly mewled Thor's name as he shuddered to quiet completion.

 _'How could Laufey do this to me?'_ desperation filled his mind even as his body found release. For the first time in his life, Loki seriously contemplated killing his father for what he'd just gone through.


	4. Too Many Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor's turn . . .

_'Seizures?'_ Thor frowned, allowing the guards to guide him down the long hallway. He ignored his aching wounds as he considered the beautiful Gamma's dilemma. _'Could the Norns be so cruel?'_ Loki was a vibrant, passionate man full of grace and apparent intelligence, but seizures . . . that affliction was a death sentence by the Gods and a truly terrifying illness to behold.

A couple of years ago one of the gladiators in the stable had suffered a seizure in the arena. His eyes had rolled back, his teeth clenched until he bit through his own tongue, his body locked then began to shake as if he had a land quake trying to escape his very insides. His bowels had released, soiling his loincloth, legs, and the ground beneath, he urinated, and then semen leaked from his staff. Thor never saw how the horrible seizure would have ended or how the gladiator might have recovered, as Tyr walked over with a look of repulsion on his handsome face. He had lifted his spear and thrust it into the defenseless man's chest, twisting for maximum damage. Then he spat on the bleeding body, calling the dying man demon spawn. No one had protested, and Tyr had never been punished - - even by the victim's owner. Everyone had considered it a mercy slaying.

If Loki suffered from such an affliction it was no wonder Laufey kept him locked away, but to put him to work as a whore made no sense. 'Does resting help him?' wondered Thor. _'Is the curse held at bay as long as he does not participate in strenuous exercise . . . like sex?'_ Thor sighed, _'is that why he only teaches and does not engage?'_

 _'No one touches me,'_ Loki had told him numerous times . . . and _'No one loves me'_ he had insisted when Thor first met him. The words confused Thor, and something else puzzled him about their brief encounter: _'why did Loki stab himself? Is he so far gone in his curse that he is prone to self-injury, as well?'_ Thor wished he knew more about this affliction so he might help Loki. Suddenly, he wanted to learn the things he'd scoffed at and Loki had been so passionate about. If he could read and sum, people would treat him with the respect due a learned man - - and he might learn something to help the pretty slave in the gilded cage.

A loud noise drew Thor's attention from his disturbing thoughts and his head shot up, eyes scanning his surroundings for danger. Both guards left him standing alone, bolting down the hall, past the stairwell and to the far end, in an apparent attempt at intervention, but Thor barely paid them any mind. The noise had not come from Loki's room, behind him, so he was not troubled. At least Loki seemed not to be hurting himself further.

The troubled blond rounded the curve of the beautifully carved staircase, letting his now clean hand rest on the smooth polished bannister. It reminded him of Loki's staff, hard but silky at the same time. Before he could lose himself further in the distracting thought, the sound of a soft, reverberating voice came from the landing below.

"I am certain one of them is. Perhaps both . . . though I could hope they would show a memory of things that once were . . ." It sounded like Rig, but the subject was incomprehensible.

"Yes," replied the low and unexpectedly serious tones of the royal guard Fandral. "You've done well. I'll check further into this, but I'll need to leave for a time. Let no harm come to either of them until we are certain."

A small noise, possibly acquiescence, sounded, followed by Rig's voice, "this will be difficult if Sigurd expects a fight."

Fandral seemed to sigh in return. "Yes, that is a point. I cannot do anything in the arena." He paused for a moment then said "I will arrange things. You keep your eyes open . . . Rig."

"Yes," he replied, adding in a somewhat amused tone, "my lord."

The pair fell silent, both turning to look at Thor as he rounded the bannister and stepped onto the landing. He nodded in greeting to his fellow gladiator and saluted the citizen with arm over chest and bowed head.

Fandral smiled back, his eyes trailing down Thor's great figure then meeting those summer-blue eyes. "Well, you certainly do look more relaxed. She wasn't so bad, was she, lad?"

"No, he wasn't," Thor replied before thinking better of his comment, but it was too late to retract the words. He kept his face expressionless, hoping to brazen out the reactions of the other two men; men taking male lovers was nothing new, but it was severely frowned upon for gladiators, who always had to strive to appear to be Alphas, even if they were not.

"He?" Fandral raised an eyebrow in surprise but smiled in an accepting manner. As a citizen, he possibly did not understand the stigma placed on such arrangements in the stable. "Well, lad, learn well from the man. He's been trained in the art of pleasure." Fandral chuckled. "And by the time those wounds heal," he gestured to Thor's bandages, "you'll be ready to please a woman and lose your virginity. Then no one will mistaken you."

At Thor's slight frown, Fandral stopped smiling and studied Thor's expression. Finally, he said "he could teach you a thing or two about pleasuring yourself as well." When he didn't get the response he apparently sought, the guard sighed. "I do hope he was at least passable looking, for your sake, lad."

Thor nodded with a frown, his mind once more conjuring the image of the vibrant young man with the horrifying curse hanging over him. Slowly, distracted, he answered "very agreeable, my lord."

"Wonderful," Fandral laughed, but there seemed a lack of his normal effluence in the sound. "Let's gather Tyr and get you back to the stable. You'll need to rest those injuries for your appointment tomorrow. Come on Rig. Donar." The wealthy royal guard turned but stopped at the sound of shouting from above.

"Stop!"

All three on the steps turned to look up as the brothel guards hurried down the stairs and stepped up, either side of Thor. The one Loki had called Ingolf, a large red-headed Beta, nodded. "I apologize, Citizen, but we were delayed by an argument." He shrugged, as if the situation happened often, "it is to be expected when two or three Gammas share a room."

"Do many share here?" Thor asked without thinking that he spoke to those considered above his station.

Fortunately, the guards didn't seem offended. The one guard merely frowned, but Ingolf nodded slightly. "Except for the most skilled Betas, all the Gammas and the lower Betas share quarters. Betas share two to a sleep room and are assigned a separate pleasure room on a rotating basis. The Gammas are three to a room and will rotate through a pair of standard pleasure rooms." Ingolf turned to look back up the steps and added, "But that one up there is given his own room. He is Laufey's greatest treasure," the redhead turned his green eyes on Thor, Fandral, and Rig. "He can calm the most nervous client, and even aid a Gamma in climaxing. He is skilled beyond measure and only the richest clients are usually granted his lessons." Ingolf studied Thor and shrugged his shoulder again. "If any other had been available, you would never have been assigned him, even with my lord's backing," he bowed to Fandral and fell silent.

Thor didn't ask why; he felt he knew already. _'Seizures. Loki is kept apart, exclusive for his own protection.'_ With a great sigh, Thor began walking down the stairs, absently leading the small group, despite having the lowest status of the lot. The others followed without question or protest, apparently not recognizing the oddity of their grouping.

When the pair of Gamma slaves led Tyr from his Beta's room, he fairly reeked of alpha musk and recent sex. The blond looked smug, almost sneering as he made a show of sniffing lightly near the still unsexed Thor. Straightening to his full near-six foot height, the slightly smaller gladiator put a small swagger in his walk.

The Beta servant at the desk smiled and blatantly checked over the now clean and very handsome Thor. "Did your appointments go as you hoped, gentlemen?" She naturally geared her question towards Fandral, but her eyes feasted on Thor.

Fandral laughed and offered a beautiful smile, taking her hand and thus drawing her full attention. He bent over the woman's hand, kissed it gently, and flirted lightly with her. "Yes, I should say they have. We look forward to tomorrow as well. Good day." Letting go of the Beta's hand, he bowed with a flourish and strode from the room, calling, "come, lads, back to the stables with you."

Thor painfully climbed into the cart, absently glad that the driver appeared to have cleaned the mud and blood from the cargo area. On the trip back through the town, Thor lost himself in the puzzle of Loki and his affliction, coming to no satisfactory conclusions by the time they arrived at the gladiatorial stable. As he climbed down, still worrying, his master, Sigurd, stepped from the meal hall.

Sigurd blinked and stopped short of stepping too close to Tyr. The smell emanating from the gladiator bespoke a minor Alpha who'd come into his adulthood. With a few more wins to his name, Tyr could easily be sold to a higher arena and more lucrative battle prizes. The master looked pleased and clasped his hands, rubbing them slightly. "Tyr, go shower and go to luncheon. Rest up."

Tyr swaggered noticeably as he strode to the communal showers nearby, taking advantage of his master's pleasure to use the building often reserved for the big victors and few Alphas of the stables. Sigurd nodded, allowing the privilege, turning to Thor.

Sniffing again, Thor's owner frowned. Turning away from the injured warrior, he glowered at the royal guard. "Fandral, I smell nothing. Is he truly a Gamma then?" His voice held anxiety and disappointment.

"No, no, Sigurd. Nothing of the sort," Fandral smiled at the other gladiator owner, his attitude friendly and relaxed. "Recall that he was sorely wounded in the arena today. I chose to not let him rut, so he hasn't been sexed." The royal guard lifted a hand to forestall Sigurd's reply, "I made sure to have him assigned a Gamma who can show him some pleasure tricks. He's to go back all sennight for attention until he's well enough to rut." Fandral smiled widely, winking at the other citizen.

"Why?" confusion laced Sigurd's words, his face twisted in the effort to understand.

"Because the extra stimulus will enrich the sexing when it does happen. It builds the body's need and the released musk will be strong."

Sigurd nodded slowly, appearing not to understand. "Oh," he replied.

For his part, Thor thought Fandral's answer made little sense, but he refused to challenge it. If he stayed quiet, Fandral might get Sigurd to agree to let Thor go back to the brothel . . . which meant he would see Loki again. He did not question his attraction to the other man; accepting it as inevitable even if he would be abused for it if the knowledge became public in the stables. But Thor could not help himself; something about the lovely, ill Gamma drew his protective instincts as well as his desire. Thor would risk much to see Loki again.

After long minutes, Sigurd finally nodded his acceptance. "Oh, well, that makes sense. I'll see he gets back there."

Before the slow-witted slave owner could forgot the already scheduled appointments, Fandral amiably offered "if it pleases you, Sigurd, my Rig'll be returning daily as well. They say he has the makings of a Breeder. I can bring your lads when I transport Rig for his lessons and save you the trip."

"Can you?" Sigurd's eyes lit up before dimming in confusion. "What? Lads?"

The royal guard nodded with a smile. "I'm told Tyr may make a Breeder as well. They expect with more attention, he could produce strong Alphas with the proper Beta mate. I thought you'd be pleased. Breeders are worth more than common gladiators, after all, and he'll fetch a good price if he proves a Breeder. They need more time to determine his . . . uh . . . potency." Fandral gave a conspiratorial wink.

"That sounds wonderful!" Sigurd's eyes lit up once more and he grinned widely in pleased greed. "Thank you, my lord. Truly you are a good man to so concern yourself with aiding me."

"After the care you've given my Rig? It is the very least I can do." Fandral paused as if suddenly recalling something then added "but remember, if Donar and Tyr are to be bred, you'll want to keep them out of the arena for a bit. Don't want them too injured to earn a wage with the ladies, eh?" The way Fandral said 'ladies' made it sound like a title, not a word referring to all women.

Sigurd laughed in response. "Yes, yes." he replied as if unbothered by the temporary loss of two of his best gladiators. "I have a new pair to train to the ring anyway. Let Tyr and Donar try their hand at the more . . ."

"Lucrative," supplied Fandral.

"Ah, yes," Sigurd nodded, smile wide, "lucrative profession."

It was then that Thor realized just what the men were talking about. Many a noble woman would pay well to be impregnated by a warrior Alpha; they already paid the patrons handsomely to possess bottles of muskoil, produced by a gladiator oiling up and scraping the oil into a flask just after battle. Once Thor had been sexed, if he proved to be the Alpha Fandral hinted at, his muskoil would be desirable to ladies. If he proved popular, he would be put up for Breeder selection, too. Stunned and uncertain how he felt, Thor realized he would be doing the very thing he'd accuse Loki of: whoring.

Thor's stomach twisted at the idea. It felt . . . wrong somehow. He wanted a better life, a faithful relationship. He wanted to breed with one person only for the rest of his years. True he was fascinated and excited by the thought of learning sex from Loki, but Thor wished to eventually take a permanent mate. Gammas were never mates.

Oddly, the spouse he pictured as mother of his children looked very much like an ice-eyed brunet with gentle hands and savory, sweet, clinging lips. Thor groaned, heading towards the empty stable bathhouse on the far side of the compound. He knew he needed to put Loki's first lesson into immediate action. Who could have guessed he would find another male so sexually alluring?

Suddenly, Thor went pale and gripped the arena wall, stumbling . . . and it was not his bad leg which made him unsteady. He had just had the overwhelming thought that he, Thor Odinson, Donar the gladiator, might just be an Omega!

Gods abound, how would he handle such a turn?

Thor groaned again and pushed away from the wall, completing his painful journey to the bathhouse and slipping inside the darkened, musty smelling room. Unable to face such a momentous idea concerning his own nature, Thor put his future out of his mind and stripped off the loincloth before recalling Loki's instructions not to wet the stitches. With a soft grumble, he sank to a bench, oiled up his hands from the supply kept in stock for producing the muskoil, and began to stroke his rapidly thickening member, all while imaging Loki's soft, clever hands tending to his needs instead.

"Loki!" He came with a scream that echoed, unheeded, throughout the showers, cum spewing across the floor in an impressive display of virility. So lost was he in his body's release, Thor never noticed the shadow slipping away from the bathhouse door.


	5. Plots and Realizations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do we see the pattern?
> 
> Loki . . .

Loki leaned his forehead against the warm tiles of his shower, bringing his breathing back under control. He needed to present a calm, cool exterior when his guards brought back the medicine. Taking a slow breath, the lithe brunet reached down to turn off the water and stepped from the stall. He began drying off for the second time that day. A quick knock on the outer door alerted him to the guards' return. Thankfully his emerald robe still lay on the bathing room floor, so he retrieved it and slipped into the silky material, tying the belt carefully in deference to the hired staff.

His arm bled freely after the hot water and rough movements, but Loki was more interested in getting his food and medicine than in taking time to bandage the small knife wound. He would tend it as he ate.

Stepping from the bathing room just as his outer door opened, Loki glanced over absently as the first of his two guards walked in. This one was Geirrod, a minor Alpha with light brown hair and green eyes. He carried a covered tray smelling of roasted meat, savory gravy, and fresh baked bread. With a smile of appreciation, Loki strode towards the table, but the smell of Alpha musk brought him up short. He glanced again towards Geirrod, who had a look of confusion on his face. The man's eyes watched Loki intently and he stepped closer, sniffing the air. An erection began tenting the man's trousers, his interest definitely peaked, and his hands gripped the food tray harder.

Neither of the guards had ever responded to Loki before, and suddenly panic threatened to overwhelm him. He bolted for the table and the small quill sharpener still laying there. He reached for the knife as Geirrod let out a small growl and lunged for him.

Ingolf walked in with a vial of silvery medicine in one hand. He instantly registered what was happening and grabbed Geirrod with his free hand. "Geirrod, leave now!"

Geirrod sneered at Ingolf, deliberately ignoring the Beta's orders as he reached again for Loki. Loki lashed out with the small blade, raking it across Geirrod's hand, causing the muscular guard to snarl and smash him across the face with a hard backhand; Loki slammed into the table and bent over it, winded and in pain.

Ingolf let the medicine drop, the thick carpeting fortunately preventing breakage of the crystal vial. He wrestled the other man away from Loki, but was unable to hold him long. As Geirrod escaped his grasp, the redheaded guard deliberately stepped between the injured Loki and the aroused Geirrod. "He's off limits!" Ingolf held out his arms in a protective gesture. "Take another Gamma . . . or one of the Betas. But leave this one alone!"

Snarling again, Geirrod said, "what do you care . . ." Anger twisted the guard's face and he growled "you want him yourself!" The Alpha guard lunged around Ingolf to grab for Loki again, but the Beta moved just as quickly.

"No! He belongs to Laufey! Only Laufey ruts with him. You were told that the day you started. So leave him be and go spend yourself with one of the others."

"Some Gamma," Geirrod growled at Ingolf. The brown-haired man tossed the tray to the floor, food and drink spreading across the carpet. He crossed his arms defiantly, glaring at Loki rather than Ingolf. "He doesn't smell like a Gamma."

"His perfume, you ass! Now get out!" Ingolf brought both hands together and gave a powerful shove to the other guard's chest, catching him off balance and sending him reeling towards the door where Geirrod caught himself on the doorjamb.

Geirrod sent a venomous look back towards Loki then turned his glare on his fellow guard. "No Gamma has the right to smell that way!" He pushed away from the door frame and strode from the room, banging the wall, furniture, and anything else he passed.

Ingolf quickly shut and locked the door, leaving the key in the lock.

With the immediate danger over, Loki loosened his grip on the table and sank to the floor, one arm wrapped around his midriff where he'd slammed into the table. The other hand gingerly felt the rising bruise across the right side of his face. He turned wide, haunted eyes on Ingolf.

Frown deepening, the guard knelt next to the injured prostitute, ignoring the mess around them. He reached up one steady hand but froze when Loki flinched away.

"Don't touch me!"

Ingolf dropped his hand and shook his head, speaking in a steady voice. "I have no interest in mating with you or harming you in any way, lad." Giving Loki a chance to collect himself, the redhead retrieved the bottle of medicine and slowly held it out. With his other hand he just as carefully reached over to gently grasp the small blade Loki still clutched. As Loki studied his remaining guard with huge ice green eyes, the guard in turn studied him with apparently worried brown ones.

Finally, Loki loosened his grip, allowing the Beta to take the quill sharpener from him. He watched cautiously as Ingolf placed the blade within easy reach, on the edge of the table. Then the man offered the medicine vial once more.

"You'll want to eat before you drink this," he said softly. As Loki reached for the bottle with his right arm, Ingolf's face twisted in concern. He seemed to study the bloody cut on Loki's forearm. Then he looked at the bloody bandaging left behind after the gladiator had left. Without a word, Ingolf rose to his feet, walked into the bathing room, and quickly returned with some of Loki's medical supplies. "Give me your arm," he ordered softly and Loki, feeling weakness and pain wash over him, relented; he held up his arm for the guard to tend. Ingolf started treating it with a basic antiseptic as he quietly said, "I'll ban that gladiator from the _House_. He shouldn't be stabbing you."

Horror rose in Loki's eyes, and he shook his head, damp curls plastering across his pale shoulders. When he spoke, though, his voice sounded matter-of-fact. "No. He didn't. He was dressing in the bathing room when I stabbed myself."

Ingolf's eyes showed his surprise, but his voice remained just as calm as the prisoner's. "Why?" he asked.

Loki looked at the guard and stated, "I don't engage with clients. I teach them."

For a long moment, Ingolf studied Loki with searching brown eyes. Finally he nodded and dropped his voice to a bare whisper. "Have you gone into heat before?"

Mild surprise washed over Loki and he considered lying or challenging this Beta. After all, Loki's Gamma nature was well known throughout _The House of Laufey_. But something in the other man's eyes seemed to reach out to him. Drawing a slow, steadying breath and letting it out, Loki decided to trust this guard who had so recently defended him. He looked at Ingolf and answered simply, "no." With that, he took the medicine vial from the guard.

Ingolf's eyes followed the bottle. "You don't get seizures, do you?"

Perverse amusement filled the young brunet and he snorted. "From this drug, yes," he held up the vial.

Thoughtfully, Ingolf slowly said "that must be strong to keep you from a heat." He paused watching his own hands as he began to wrap clean linen over Loki's injured arm. Softly he added "he was a comely lad, I'll grant you. Hard to resist, I'm sure."

Stiffening, Loki opened his mouth to protest, instinctively knowing just which _'lad'_ Ingolf referred to. But, again he felt compelled to give the truth. He settled on a nod of acknowledgement, without comment.

The guard finished binding the wound. He looked around at the mess then at the obvious bruising on Loki's face and across his midriff. Pushing to his feet, he brushed his hands down his trouser legs and nodded once. "I'll get you fresh food. Don't take that medicine until you've eaten something. I'll warrant food in the belly calms the symptoms a piece, and I don't want you going into convulsions while you're trying to swallow your luncheon." Ingolf turned and strode to the door, unlocking and opening it.

Loki called softly, "I'm not his lover."

"What?" Ingolf turned.

"Laufey," Loki clarified. "We're not lovers. He's my father."

The red-haired guard suddenly looked as angry as Thor had when he found out. He snapped the door shut and straightened fully, hands clenching. "And he is not mating with you, lad?" Something about his tone suggested disbelief.

"I believe I would be aware if he had done so, Ingolf." Loki said in a rather amused tone, finding the idea ludicrous. "He taught me to teach others, but never . . ."

Ingolf cut him off. But rather than criticize Loki's occupation, he surprised the younger man by asking, "and when did he start you working, lad?"

With a frown, not understanding just what Ingolf meant by such questioning, Loki answered, "I was sixteen when I began teaching." He watched the other man carefully, trying to discern what bothered him.

The guard turned without a word and threw open the door. He practically stormed from the room, closing the door more forcefully than was normal and locking it.

Loki watched the door for some time, deep in thought, trying to puzzle out what had angered Ingolf. Thor had been angry that Loki's father had him working in a brothel, but Ingolf seemed more upset about his . . . age. _'What about my age would upset him? It is not as if Laufey let the customers use me. I have only ever taught what Laufey taught me.'_

In fact, Thor had been his first ever hands-on client. He had never had to touch anyone before. Loki's mind wandered over that beautiful man: his large calloused hands, beautiful smile, rich laugh, summer blue eyes . . . suddenly Loki realized that he was fantasizing about showing the man everything he had ever learned from his father.

Ignoring Ingolf's warning about eating first, Loki un-stoppered the vial and drank the potion in one breath, desperate to put an end to this deep need rising inside his core. He lay down on the pillows, neglecting to use a mouth protector, as always. As his body began to jerk and his teeth to clench, Loki realized the convulsions were worse than ever before. He knew that he had dosed himself too close to the last draught. Loki's eyes rolled back into his head, his body released out of every opening, and he lost any coherent thought.

When Loki slowly came to, he was covered in bodily fluids and a sandal had been wedged into his mouth. He felt weak and nauseous, and a headache throbbed behind his eyes. Vomiting, he barely noticed as two strong hands turned him to his side, pulling the shoe from his mouth and preventing him from choking. Soon, the spasm stopped and Loki lay panting on the soiled pillows.

Beside him Ingolf grunted, looking unhappy. "Good, now I'll clean you up, lad." The red-haired Beta stripped Loki's robe from him and lifted him as a parent would carry a small child. He brought him to the bathing room and sat with him on the bathing bench, though Ingolf remained fully clothed. Turning on the warm water in a gentle fall, Ingolf carefully bathed the exhausted Loki before wrapping him in a large towel and carrying him through the suite to the sleeping chamber. Once there, he finally dried the limp brunet and tucked him under the covers of the large bed. "Sleep," he said, standing and moving to close the drapes against the afternoon sun.

Loki struggled from the warm comfort Ingolf had lulled him into. Trying to process thought through his pounding head, he raised a hand to his forehead and gasped "client . . ."

The guard nodded. "Of course. I'll take care of things. Sleep." And he stood and stared down at the twenty year old, frowning. As Loki felt his eyelids grow heavy, Ingolf walked out.

Unable to fight sleep, Loki gave in and let the darkness sweep over him.

Early morning sunlight glaring through the wide open drapes pulled Loki from sleep. His mouth tasted foul and dry, his eyes ached, his stomach churned in a nauseous whirl, and a headache throbbed intently. Groaning, Loki turned over, back to the offending light, and froze at the glacial voice beside his bed.

"So, you tried to kill yourself."

Opening ice green eyes, Loki looked to the chair placed by his bed. There sat an athletic man of about six and a half feet with pale skin, bald head, and piercing, cold red-brown eyes: Laufey, his father. Blinking slowly, the son barely registered that the older man wore one of his most scandalous ensembles, meaning he'd stopped to check on Loki on the way to a business meeting with potential clients. That did not bode well.

Fighting his body's weakness, Loki pushed up from the soft mattress and reached for a goblet of tepid water on his nightstand. He swished the water in his mouth before realizing he had nowhere to spit it out. With a grimace, he swallowed the foul tasting liquid. Finally, he answered the man's accusation. "Unintentionally, Father. I thought only to prevent lust."

"By overdosing on inhibitor? By dosing yourself so much you miss last evening's appointment and may miss this morning's as well?" Laufey's cold voice rolled over Loki.

Looking directly at Laufey, the younger man replied calmly, "would you have me go into heat?" He spread his hands, repressing a wince as his bruised abdomen protested the slight movement, "or raped by a man paid to protect me?"

At the question Laufey stiffened, eyes narrowing. He leaned forward in his chair, staring at his son intently. His voice nearly a growl, he demanded "tell me!"

Satisfaction flitted through Loki's ice green eyes, and he rose on weakened legs, frowning suddenly at the lasting symptoms from his overdose the night before. Crossing over to the armoire, he pulled out a soft furred dove-colored robe and slit into the fluffy warmth, his father patiently waiting for his son to speak. Loki moved back to his bed and sank onto it, absently pulling a warm blanket over his legs and wrapping his injured arm around his bruised waist.

"Ingolf and Geirrod brought my luncheon to me as usual. This time, Geirrod walked close and sniffed. He came closer, and I could smell his musk increase."

Laufey's normally cold eyes blazed in apparent anger but he did not interrupt.

"Ingolf intervened but Geirrod argued and tried to grab me. If Ingolf had not been here, I would have been raped and possibly bonded with that . . . _bilgesnipe_." Loki could not hide his disgust of the minor Alpha, nor did he try. After a small pause, he gestured to his arm. "I had to stab myself to control my own rising passion, Father, though Ingolf dressed the wound later . . . and gave me the extra dose I requested for my . . ." he paused and, watching the increasing anger in his father's eyes, added, "seizures . . . my only thought was to prevent my heat, which I feared since interacting with that Alpha." He conveniently did not clarify that another Alpha had been to his room the day before. Laufey could ask him to specify which one they discussed, but truly Loki felt this entire debacle was partly his father's fault for assigning him the injured gladiator to begin with. By throwing the entire fault of the situation on the vile guard, Loki felt there would be no chance of repercussion to Thor . . . after all, the tall blond had been a paying client assigned to come to him . . . no matter how odd the circumstance was.

Satisfaction coursed through Loki as Laufey rose gracefully from the chair, one of the pair normally kept in the living area. The man's face seemed inscrutable, as if carved from ice; however, over the years his son had learned to read him well: someone would pay for Loki's injuries. Laufey nodded and let his eyes rove over the younger man. He sounded cold, detached, when he asked, "and Ingolf?"

"Ingolf protected me, as you pay him well to do. He even _reminde'_ Geirrod that I belong to you." Suddenly Loki stiffened at the memory, "that you alone take me as a _lover_." The last word twisted with disgust and he glared at the taller man. "Father, the idea is obscene that . . ."

Laufey cut him off dismissively, like he corrected an errant child. "No one knows who you are. They think you my pet, as I have told them." He fixed his red-brown eyes on Loki. "Do not tell them otherwise," he ordered. Drawing himself to his full height, towering over his six foot two inch son, he added, "I will . . . address this. Rest and only take your normal dose this day. You'll have no morning clients."

He walked towards the door then stopped. Without turning, in a deceptively calm voice, he asked, "tell me . . . who destroyed your carpets, Loki?"

Without hesitation, Loki responded, "that Alpha, Father." Once again not clarifying which one he spoke of.

Anger once more flashed in Laufey's eyes and he turned a near murderous look on his son. The man did not waste money and having to fix this mess would cost him. Finally Laufey nodded and strode quietly from the room, his very stance radiating displeasure. The outer door clicked shut behind him followed by the sound of the lock engaging.

Only after Laufey left did Loki wonder why his father had not asked to clarify precisely which Alpha had cost him so much. He pushed the blanket from his lap and rose, graceful as always despite the pain and weakness. Stepping from the sleep room, he pondered the question, stopping by his table. _'Did Laufey really assigned the gladiator to me . . . had he not been out yesterday acquiring supplies, including more inhibitor?'_ A sudden realization came to Loki. _'Laufey didn't assign Thor to me . . . his Beta assistant did . . . a woman who had no idea Laufey's . . ._ lover _. . .'_ Loki curled his lip in disgust at the idea of mating with his father. True the man had instructed him in the art of sex since he was fourteen, but never had he laid a hand on his son. Laufey had used a female and male Gamma enhanced with aphrodisiacs to demonstrate. _'So he has allowed people to think he favors one of his slaves but still hires that slave out for profit.'_

As the lithe brunet reached for the breakfast tray which had been left on the table, he frowned. Sinking onto the remaining chair, Loki began to eat, forcibly ignoring the nausea left over from his overdose. Ingolf had been angry at the idea that Laufey had mated with Loki, but only after Loki had informed the redhead of his own relationship with the brothel keeper. And the guard had been angrier about the age at which Loki had been taught and expected to service clients. Sixteen - - a minor - - and fourteen to begin the lessons - - even younger. Loki shuddered at the sudden realization that his father had let his under-aged son do the things Loki now did on a daily basis.

In disgust Loki pushed away the past and his father's questionable morals just as he pushed away his barely touched food tray. Rising and striding quickly, needing fresh air, he crossed into his sleep room and opened the balcony doors, exiting onto the wide expanse of marble overlooking the ocean crashing below.

 _'If that Beta assigned Thor without Laufey's consent, she's getting above herself. Only Laufey has the authority to assign me.'_ Loki chose to think about something within his control, frowning in rising indignation at the woman's presumption. _'Especially if he's led everyone to think I'm his lover.'_ Loki suppressed the shudder of revulsion that thought brought with it.

The smell of salt and shellfish rose on the caressing breeze. With the air came much needed serenity. The ocean always soothed Loki; he had grown up with the sounds and smells embracing him since before he could recall. Calm began to rise and he again pondered the problem.

Laufey would be sure to punish Geirrod for his offensive attempted attack. Knowing the brothel keeper's anger, the guard would be either enslaved far from the temptation of Loki . . . or dead. Loki preferred the latter; he never tolerated anyone trying to hurt him. Thus, with the problem of the guard disposed, Loki pondered what should be done to the Beta who'd gone above herself to assign someone against all rules. It would be easy to report her and convince Laufey her presumption undermined his authority; Laufey seemed to see traitors everywhere, after all. A slow smile of satisfaction curved Loki's lips. She would regret even considering sending Thor to Loki.

The smile faded. _'Do I regret it, though?'_ A flash of summer sky eyes and gentle calloused hands came to mind, and Loki wrapped his arms about himself. If the woman had obeyed her orders, Thor would have been given to someone else or even turned away. Placing a hand on the smooth balustrade, Loki leaned into the breeze and inhaled. _'No, I cannot report her without revealing Thor's visit . . . and possibly his guilt for the carpet and damned overdose.'_ Sighing, Loki shook his dark head, curls moving restlessly in the soft breeze. _'As I'll never see the big idiot again, why bring Father's wrath down upon his lovely head?'_

Content with his change of heart, Loki let go the idea of punishing the Beta servant and let a soft smile curve his lips as the sea breeze enveloped him.


	6. Seeking Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope a double-long chapter doesn't disturb too many people.
> 
> Back to Thor . . .

The morning seemed to drag endlessly as Thor sat in the stands watching the new gladiator trainees in their lessons. Rarely had he the privilege of sitting on the smooth seats reserved for patrons and paying citizens, but he felt no pleasure in the act. Rather, he found himself wishing the morning at an end so he might go to his appointment with the beautiful Gamma, Loki.

As one of the new trainees, a thin teenager with shaggy black hair, dark brown eyes, and the darker complexion of the Vanir, fumbled the warhammer a third time, Thor groaned and shifted on the bench. Unable to contain his impatience, the big blond gladiator leaned forward and called out, "No, boy, not like that. It is a hammer, not a sword." He sighed, hand moving to cover but not disturb his injured thigh as the lad sent him a look of pure terror.

"Stop!" Sigurd's voice rang over those practicing and all activity ceased. The slaver owner turned to face Thor and frowned a long silent moment. Finally he called "can you stand, Donar? I cannot teach that boy the hammer while working sword with the other." He gestured to a muscular teen with brown hair and blue eyes.

Relieved to be doing something, even if it was merely showing the child how not to be killed, Thor nodded. He crossed his arm respectfully over his chest, bowed his head, and said "Yes, my master. I can stand."

"Good, then show the boy how to do it correctly." Sigurd turned back to the other lad and Rig, who once more began to demonstrate the intricacies of sword handling.

Thor rose slowly and limped from the seats. When he towered over the young lad he gestured with his left hand, as he didn't wish to strain the stitches on his right arm. "Pick up the hammer, boy." Swallowing in apparent nervousness, the lad nodded and retrieved the warhammer once more. He looked to Thor for approval, but the gladiator shook his head, frowning.

"No. Feel the weight. It lies in the head not the haft. A sword's weight is in the hilt and balanced along the length of the blade. Do you feel the difference?" Thor watched the boy swing the hammer a couple of times then nod.

"Good," Thor praised. "Part of using a weapon is never letting an opponent see how it balances or over balances in your hand. When you lift it, you must not let the head drag down. Raise it as if the head were on a direct line reaching from the heavens." Thor took the hammer from the boy and raised it, left handed, to the sky as if it weighed no more than a thought.

The boy's eyes never left the hammer and he swallowed again, nodding.

Satisfied, Thor offered the hammer back to the teen. "Keep practicing lifting it until you do not feel the weight. No swinging. No fighting. Lifting only." He placed his hands on his hips. Aware of the uncomfortable tug at his stitches as the muscles in his arm moved, he dropped his arms. "Begin."

At least monitoring the new trainee helped pass the last two hours before the noon hour and Thor's scheduled appointment. Finally, Sigurd called a halt as the royal guard Fandral made his appearance. Glady, Thor ordered his student to put away the weapon and go to his luncheon. Thor turned and limped over to the friendly citizen, falling in step with Rig as Sigurd sent a slave to find Tyr on the far side of the practice arena.

Crossing his arm over his chest and bowing his head respectfully, Thor patiently waited as Fandral made pleasant conversation with Sigurd. Once the rich man seemed to notice him, and nod acknowledgment of the respect due him, Thor straightened. Rather than listen in to his betters greeting one another, the gladiator turned to watch as Tyr strutted over to join them. The man had become more insufferable since his rutting the day before.

"Well, that's the lot then," Fandral ended his conversation as Tyr stopped beside Rig. "I'll take them now, Sigurd, and have them back to you shortly."

"Yes, yes," Sigurd answered, eyes roving over the two blond gladiators he owned. "Do as you're told," he admonished, apparently unaware of Tyr's sudden glower.

Thor merely accepted the words from the slow-witted citizen; Sigurd had always been a good master, and not many appeared to be so - - and Thor had been in his care since the age of seven, marking Sigurd the main father-type figure the slave had known. Absently, Thor tried to render the mental image of his own father to compare to this man but found he barely retained any memory outside his indentured servitude. Would he even recognize the man when the debt was paid and he was sent back to him? Thor frowned, but said nothing, pushing the confusion away. He rarely dwelt on problems he could find no immediate solution for . . . except the problem of Loki's health. Thinking of the lovely, troubled prostitute brought the smile back to Thor's generous mouth.

Without complaint, though his thigh ached from the long standing, Thor limped to the same oxcart of the previous day's journey. He climbed silently in and arranged himself next to the dark-skinned Rig. Once Tyr settled on the other side of Fandral's slave the cart rumbled down the cobbled road.

"I suppose," Tyr unexpectedly spoke up, looking across Rig at Thor, "you'll be sent to that Gamma woman again." A tone of smugness threaded every word.

Thor immediately rumbled noncommittally low in his throat.

Tyr laughed and let his eyes rest on the bandaged thigh injury he had caused. "Wouldn't want you rutting and getting hurt further," he almost sing-songed in delight. "But a Gamma shouldn't be a threat to a big bad . . . _Beta_ , like you." Tyr's emphasis on the word made it an insult.

Suddenly, Thor recalled his own fear of the day before: the worry that he might actually be one of those mysterious and not talked about Omegas. Whispers among the more seasoned gladiators labeled them as bad as ergi. Carefully, trying not to give away his concern, Thor asked "and is it so bad to be a Beta, Tyr? I can still compete."

A loud guffaw broke free from the other blond and he shook his head. "Ah, you must have been a babe in arms when Sigurd purchased you if you think a Beta may compete with an Alpha." He looked smugly over at Thor. "Whereas I was twelve years old when I started and so know much of the world." Tyr seemed to swell at the idea that he excelled over Thor in something.

"Twelve is a tender age yet," Rig quietly pointed out but shut his mouth when Fandral called back "nearly there, lads. Look sharp." The citizen turned in his seat and smiled. "At least none of you are dripping mud and gore this day." When he turned forward once more, Tyr rolled his eyes in disrespect.

The five foot eleven inch man looked across Rig to Thor, continuing his bragging. "Betas are and will always be second class citizens, Donar. Only Alphas have any real power." He preened in his newly revealed nature. "Being an Alpha is being a real man." He sneered over at Thor just as the cart slowed to a stop. "No one wants a Beta except in bed."

A flush came to Thor's cheeks, and he didn't know how to even begin to argue with such an idea. However, Rig's soft, deep voice wiped the smugness from Tyr's handsome face. "Tell the Allmother you think she is only worthy of bedsport then, Tyr, for she is a Beta and queen of us all." His golden eyes stared straight ahead, not looking at either of his companions.

Tyr flushed much as Thor had but out of angry embarrassment rather than confusion. The cart came to a halt before he could retaliate against the quiet prisoner of war.

Fandral ushered the three gladiators from the cart and into the richly appointed brothel. When the four men finally stood in front of the desk, the same pretty Beta servant favored them with a welcoming smile for the rich custom they brought. She held one manicured fingernail over the line in her ledger roughly the same distance down the page as Rig's appointment from yesterday. "Welcome to _The House of Laufey_ , gentlemen," she greeted. "I regret that Laufey is away on business, but he welcomes you back and offers you the services of his _House_."

Gesturing, the woman signaled a pair of Gamma slaves to once more guide Tyr down the hall, presumably to his Beta prostitute. Directly after Tyr disappeared the red-haired Ingolf and a black-haired, olive-skinned guard unfamiliar to Thor stepped up. The Beta woman nodded to the pair then to the customers. "Have a pleasant visit, gentlemen." She handed a key from her desk to Ingolf.

Thor drew in a shaky breath as he realized the key must be to Loki's private suite.

And the gladiator was correct. Once on the fourth floor the guards escorted Thor down the same hallway to stand in front of the mahogany door. Ingolf fit the key in the lock, but he suddenly paused, his ginger eyebrows furrowed. Softly he spoke in warning. "Take care, lad . . . he's not well this day and has missed appointments for his . . . illness."

Worried by the guard's warning and his overheard knowledge of Loki's condition, Thor stepped into the room - - and gasped in shock. Barely aware of the door closing and locking behind him, Thor's blue eyes took in not only the mud and blood stained carpet but the evidence of a spilled meal, vomit and filth encrusted pillows, and old bloody bandaging on the floor. One of the comfortable chairs was missing as well. In horror, Thor limped quickly to the pillows on the dais and knelt painfully to scoop up the destroyed green silk Loki had worn the day before, noting every human bodily fluid dried and stained upon the once resplendent material.

He knew instantly that Loki must have had another seizure - - this one very bad. Why had no one cleaned up the mess or at least moved the slave to another room? Thor's mind dredged up the Beta servant's bitter words of the day before: _'It isn't as if I'm over-booking that pampered Gamma. What does anyone need with all that free time?'_ Anger rose at the obvious jealousy in the woman's attitude. She must really dislike Loki to let Laufey's absence be an excuse to mistreat the beautiful Gamma - - pettiness! Thor frowned, thunder in his summer sky eyes as a blaze of anger crossed his features quickly replaced by genuine concern for the graceful, cursed man forced to endure these conditions. Could he be lying helpless and ill yet?

Thor let the destroyed robe drop and turned to limp into the bathing room, fearing to find Loki unconscious or even drowned in the shower or relaxing tub. Looking in the well proportioned shower stall then quickly glancing under the lid of the tub, Thor turned and frowned. The pile of medical supplies still sat within easy reach of the shower and bathing cloths lay in both the shower and sink. No sign of the lovely raven-haired man relieved Thor's tightening chest. He turned and limped to the sleeping chamber at the other end of the suite.

Inside the jade and beige room Thor glanced around quickly. Beside the unmade bed stood the missing chair. A half-full goblet of water sat on the night stand. The balcony doors had been flung wide, something soft grey fluttering in the ocean breeze. Thor made his way quickly to the balcony and looked out then felt his heart seize.

There stood Loki, hands balanced on the marble balustrade, leaning precariously over the waist high rail, ice green eyes closed. He appeared to be lost in a dream, a soft smile playing on his lips as he seemed to lean further over and out, as if he might try to take wing and fly.

"No!" Thor screamed and bolted to Loki's side, grabbing for his left arm and startling the other man with his sudden intrusion.

Loki's eyes slammed open and he tugged at his arm, fortunately not the injured one. Pulling again, his green eyes looked straight into Thor's blue ones and Loki frowned. "Don't touch me, you idiot!" he hissed.

But Thor didn't hear the angry barb. Rather his initial relief at having prevented Loki's possible jump from the balcony turned to sick horror once more as he took in the livid bruising down the right side of that delicate face. "By the Gods, who dared strike you, little one?" Thor shook as anger at the unknown assailant rose up like a tornado of fury inside.

"Unhand me, Thor," Loki said, his voice suddenly calm, no longer trying to pull away.

Surprised by Loki's tone, Thor obeyed though he demanded again "who struck you, Loki?"

As if considering the answer, Loki stepped away from the rail. He looked over Thor, apparently noting the flashing eyes, clenched fists, and shaking legs. Loki rolled his pretty green eyes and shook his dark head, disarrayed curls sweeping his shoulders and neck as he moved. "And who says someone else did it, Thor, when I have already proven quite capable of self-injury." He lifted his bandaged right arm as if to remind Thor of the knife wound of the day before.

Thor shook his blond head, still frowning his worry. "No, you did not do that to yourself, Loki, unless you fell into a large object with a gemstone embedded in it during your seizure, and the pillows have no such danger among them."

Shock coursed over Loki's features and he stiffened to his full height, barely an inch shorter than Thor, but seeming so much smaller due to his lithe frame. "Seizure?" He asked, his voice sounding a whisper of disbelief.

Nodding, Thor reached over and gently touched Loki's uninjured cheek, eyes filled with his worry for the other slave. "I know of your illness, Loki, and I am not afraid of you or your curse. I wish to help you but am too stupid to know anything of use." Thor's voice shook as he spoke his concern.

Loki blinked then smiled as amusement lit his eyes. He chuckled softly and grabbed Thor's larger hand, tugging him out of the breeze and into the sleeping chamber. "I appreciate your concern, Thor, but it is nothing you can fix." He looked over the muscular frame of his companion and seemed to shudder slightly. "I have a death sentence over my head whether you know it or not." The graceful man sank onto the bed and looked up at Thor, appearing quite calm despite the dire pronouncement.

The gladiator stared down at Loki in return, heart thundering as he struggled with the idea that the lovely creature before him would be so cursed by the Gods. With a groan, Thor stepped closer and touched Loki's soft hair still mussed from sleep and the sea breeze. "Nay, little one. I will fight this for you. Whatever you may have done to offend the Gods, I will find a way to right it."

"My hero," Loki said without malice. Suddenly he frowned up at the gladiator and asked, almost testily, "and why are you back here again? I told you, I teach couples. I do not engage with them. Did Laufey not correct yesterday's mistake?"

Thor shook his head and moved to sit onto the bed next to Loki, the mattress sinking under his weight, causing Loki to lean into him. The other man pushed away and moved further across the soft surface as Thor watched intently. "I was told he is still away. His servant at the front desk has assigned me to you again." He paused and sighed, determining not to tell Loki of the pretty Beta's cattiness; it wasn't as if Loki could do anything about it. "Your living area is a mess. Did a customer attack you?" A sudden image of some burly man trying to rape the beautiful Loki had anger once more raging like a storm in Thor's heart. How quickly this man had found his way there.

In answer, Loki shook his head, his hand coming up to gently touch the swollen discoloration across his cheek, eye, and temple. The movement also let his robe gape a bit, exposing his nakedness underneath. But it was not that beautiful body Thor stared at - - it was the ugly gash of red and purple across his trim waist. With a cry of shock, Thor reached over and tugged the furred robe open, exposing Loki's injury. "Who . . ." was all Thor could get past the full anger choking him.

Loki placed a hand on Thor's chest, green eyes widening in that same haunted, hunted look he'd displayed the first time they'd met. "No, Thor, do nothing. I am well. The man who did this was caught immediately by Ingolf and is being punished as we speak." The long-fingered, graceful hand trembled against Thor's bare chest.

He placed his larger hand over it. "But he should not have been near you at all, little one," Thor rumbled, eyes searching Loki's pale face. Slowly, he asked, "did he see your seizure?"

Curiosity and annoyance flashed in Loki's intelligent eyes. "How do you know about the seizures, Thor? Customers are not told these things."

"I overheard you ask for your medicine yesterday when I left your rooms," Thor answered simply. He stroked Loki's hand gently, but the other man pulled it away, muttering under his breath. Thor guessed it was an admonishment not to touch him - - again. Determined to ferret out the abuser, however, Thor ignored Loki's grumbling and asked "and is Laufey fond of letting customers abuse his whores, Loki?"

Loki's eyes blazed but he just forced a laugh. "The customers are always right and pay for that privilege, Thor. But no, since you pester, it was my other guard, Geirrod, who hit me. You see, the guards are allowed to rut with anyone they desire here as part of their pay. However, I dared turned him down and he grew angry with me. He said I should obey as he is an Alpha. I still refused him and he was insulted enough to hit me." Loki paused, as if gathering his thoughts, then added, "I stumbled into the table and thus you can see how both my face and my stomach are injured. Are you satisfied?"

"No," Thor answered, drawing a surprised look from the other man. "I think it obscene that one man can so abuse another for his nature. Tyr feels the same way as this Geirrod, that an Alpha has the right to do as he chooses and take as he wishes. He says that a Beta is only good for bedsport and dismisses Gammas as worth even less." Agitated and trying to understand a world that made sense only the morning before, Thor reached up to stroke Loki's dark curls, running the softness through his strong fingers. "Why do people act this way?"

The prostitute did not stop the gladiator's touch this time. Instead, he sighed and shook his head softly. "I do not understand why it has been allowed to happen, but I understand _what_ has happened, Thor. Alphas are strong and protect us. They have the power to rule lands, start and stop wars, and make strong children. Betas are gentler. They are the caregivers, the nurturers, and the tenders of the home and raiser of the children. Gammas are weaker, though by far not helpless or simple. They are able to work long hours and hard jobs. Thus, they are the labor. But do not ask me how it was that Gammas became the slaves and Alphas the kings, for Laufey does not let me delve too much in politics." Bitterness laced Loki's tone as he imparted his small store of knowledge.

Thor smiled at the other man and said, "certainly Gammas are not simple if you are any example. You are wiser than Tyr, and he is Alpha. You are more caring than Sigurd, and he is Beta. I think the world greatly underestimates the Gamma nature. Perhaps Gammas should rule and bear the heirs of Asgard." He beamed at Loki, looking for approval for his rebellious suggestion.

Instead, Loki rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Idiot," he said.

"Why?" challenged Thor, "because I wish for things to be more equal? I wish for people to do the jobs they are qualified for and to be taught what they are capable of learning?" He let go of Loki's hair and slipped a strong finger under the man's jaw, tilting his head so their eyes met. "I am an idiot for wishing you out of this place and somewhere you could be yourself, with no one to judge you or use you?" Fear flashed in Loki's eyes but left so quickly, Thor wondered if he even saw it.

Loki pulled his chin out of Thor's grasp and shook his head. "No, you are an idiot if you think a Gamma will provide strong children, Thor." He looked back at the big blond man. "Let me teach you what you should have been taught in your infancy." With that, Loki turned fully to Thor and waved his left hand gracefully as he spoke, a sign Thor realized indicated the subject was close to Loki's heart.

"Alphas," the brunet began, "are the ruling class because they are strong and produce children."

"Aye, you said that," Thor smiled, but stopped when Loki shook his head and glared at him. He allowed the other man to speak uninterrupted.

"An Alpha man can rut with any Beta woman and produce strong children, if the Beta is fertile enough. Alpha women, while very rare, are said to be unable to produce children without fertility help." Loki seemed to pause for some reason but continued when Thor nodded. "Betas are male or female and far more numerous than any other nature. They are fertile, but limited, producing only two to four children in a lifespan. This places them in a more subservient category, as they are busy working and raising the children but not as fertile as the Alpha males, who may produce children with multiple mates."

Thor dropped his hand from Loki's chin, fascinated by the passion with which Loki spoke.

"Gammas are infertile, Thor, and cannot produce children, making them ideal bedsport as they will not produce bastard children. They are also often unable to be sexually stimulated without aphrodisiacs." Confusion welled in Thor's eyes and Loki went on to explain, "drugs or potions which make it possible for the Gamma to orgasm. Without it, a Gamma woman is forced to fake her pleasure and a male Gamma is unable to sustain an erection long enough to please a lover."

Listening intently, nearly holding his breath in anticipation of finding out about the mysterious Omega, Thor nodded in encouragement.

But Loki did not satisfy his curiosity. He did not mention Omegas at all. Rather, he said, "and thus, no one will ever give a Gamma the respect you seem to feel. Intelligence is not enough. Willingness to work is not enough. In a society where sexual prowess and fertility are paramount, a sexless Gamma has no place."

Thor burst in with his question at last. "And what of Omegas, Loki? Do they feel pleasure? What is their station? No one discusses them in the stable."

Loki studied him carefully and said, in a flat, almost dead voice, "Omegas are an abomination and are executed as soon as they reach their first heat."

"No, that is not right," Thor began to argue, but Loki lifted a hand and Thor stopped.

"Right or not, Thor, it is the way of things and has been for thousands of years. Change is slow if it ever happens. Only the Allfather and Allmother have the power to command a political upheaval and the citizens would probably rebel. A man does not change what he is comfortable with." Loki pulled his robe closed over his injured mid-section and loosely tied the robe once more. "I suppose you are again here for an appointment I did not expect," he reminded Thor of their true business, which was certainly not Thor's education in social castes and fertility natures.

Searching for something to break the solemnity, finding nothing but questions, Thor sighed but did not allow Loki to end the subject, though he moved the talk from Omegas back to Gammas. "So, you cannot feel pleasure in sex, little one?"

"Idiot," Loki offered him a glare of apparent annoyance. "I cannot have sex with anyone, Thor." He began to rise from the bed, but Thor's hand shot out to prevent him, gently grabbing his wrist. He ignored Loki's immediate response of "don't touch me!"

Thor leaned closer to the other man, still gripping his wrist firmly, but not painfully. He spoke quietly as he said "because it brings on your curse." Thor looked at Loki with understanding and regret.

"My curse . . ." Loki's voice became breathless and he leaned away from Thor, but he nodded. "Oh, yes, Thor. My _curse_ threatens me every day . . . especially when you are near. I have special medicine, but . . ."

The gladiator sighed and nodded, glancing towards the opened door into the destroyed living area. "But it doesn't always work. Perhaps there is a different medicine you can take?"

Loki sighed. "Thor, let me go. If ever my curse were discovered, Laufey has assured me it will be my death." He tugged his arm.

This time Thor let him escape, even pushing back to give the other man room on the bed so he might not run too far. He considered what Loki said about the seizures and shook his head. "Laufey locks you in to protect you then he forces you to do the very thing which makes you sick." Blue eyes sparking in rising anger, he looked to Loki for confirmation, "then he threatens to have you killed if anyone finds out the nature of your illness."

"Nature," Loki said; his voice sounded breathless and worried, "yes, nature is the very problem."

Ingolf's warning came to Thor's mind and he shook his head, amusement washing away his anger like a summer rain delivers a parched field. He smiled softly. "You have lied to me, little one."

Ice green eyes opened wide in sudden fear.

Thor pushed on despite the vulnerable look. "Laufey will not kill his son if someone finds out about the seizures. Your guards already know about them," he pointed out triumphantly, feeling as if he had solved a riddle of great import.

Loki snorted then chuckled, though his eyes still held misery. "Ah, you catch me in my lies." His voice did not hold the expected humor, though his tone strove for lightness. "Laufey will not kill me, Idiot. Others would." He turned his gaze to Thor and shrugged one shoulder, the robe slipping down over the creamy expanse of skin.

It took Thor's breath away. He contained himself by folding his hands together in his lap, though he could feel his burgeoning erection begin to tent his loincloth. He shook his head, trying to remain with the conversation. "I know. I have seen Tyr kill a gladiator in the midst of a seizure and no one," he raised serious eyes to Loki, "not even the owner protested. I wish to help you and do not know how."

Apparently the erection had not gone unnoticed by the observant, intelligent Loki, as he gestured gracefully to Thor's crotch and said "well, that won't help me, will it?"

The hint of longing in Loki's voice drew Thor's attention and he rose to his feet, afraid he would grab for the beautiful Gamma and terrify him again. Thor ran a hand through his golden locks and winced at the ache of pain in his thigh and forearm. "I practiced what you taught me." He looked to the door once more, eyes falling on the opened door of the bathing room in the distance. Wanting to alleviate any worry Loki harbored about this appointment, he suddenly said. "With my injuries, I am not to be sexed today. I can practice again and they will think I have been tended by you." He stopped in front of Loki, only just aware that he had been pacing like a great caged lion. He looked down at the man and offered, "I would not tell them the truth, if you wish it, though I am not well learned in lying."

"You practiced," Loki repeated, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh, you _are_ adorable." He stood, their bodies almost flush, and inhaled then pushed lightly at Thor's great bulk, causing him to step back to give the smaller man room. "If you are so good at practice, I have another technique for you which I challenge you to try on yourself later. Into the bathing room or even my sleep room will need re-furnishing I fear." With those promising words, Loki stepped around Thor and walked gracefully through his suite to turn in his bathing room doorway. "Or are you content to merely practice with your great hands on that massive tool."

Not letting the opportunity go to learn more from the skilled man, nor the chance to perhaps have Loki's hands on him once more, Thor limped quickly across the separating space. At Loki's gesture towards the shower, a smile rose to Thor's lips and he walked inside the massive stall, ignoring the pile of cloths in the back. With a suddenly wicked grin, Thor removed his loincloth, turned to display his full hard staff to Loki, and dropped the clothing outside the shower. He pulled his hand back in and gripped himself, stroking lightly as he intently stared at Loki.

"Let yourself go, idiot, or you'll be spent before I can teach you more." Loki's voice sounded breathless beyond his amusement. He let his furred robe slip down his body and pool on the floor around his feet, much as he did the day before.

Thor's cock twitched as he found the reveal of Loki's body erotic. Obediently he let go his shaft, though the rising ache demanded attention. Thor drew in an appreciative breath as the lithe man stepped into the shower and turned the water faucets on to a gentle pulsing. Then Loki turned fully to him and smiled almost wickedly.

"You will not be able to stand through this," he claimed and gave Thor's chest a shove.

Wanting to protest that he had the stamina to fight an hour in the arena, Thor held his tongue and let himself sink onto the bathing bench near the back of the stall. He looked up at Loki, noting the man's slender, semi-erect cock hung just within eye's reach, tempting but ultimately forbidden if he did not wish Loki further suffering. Thor sighed and looked up to Loki's eyes. Softly, he said, "does even being semi-erect hurt you, little one?"

"No," Loki unexpectedly dropped to his knees, much as he had the day before, though the position seemed to force his feet under the stream of water. "I will receive my medicine with my lunch, right after your visit, so I am not afraid to ignore it for now."

Expecting Loki to soap his hands again, Thor was momentarily stunned when Loki instead merely wrapped his strong, soft fingers around Thor's thick shaft. With that same wicked smile, the raven-haired man brought his face close to Thor's manhood, his hot breath causing pleasurable ripples down the length of Thor's cock. Unsure what Loki had planned, Thor set his hands on the bench and drew his breath in.

Loki closed his eyes and turned his head slightly, letting his cheek brush over Thor's massive tool. The soft skin felt wonderful against his pulsing head, and drops of pre-cum leaked out to streak across the other man's cheek in a debauched fashion. Thor groaned at the stimulus but refused to look away. Loki opened his eyes and looked up at Thor, catching and locking their gazes as he opened his mouth. The tip of his tongue slipped out and lapped more beads of milky fluid from Thor's shaft, swirling the liquid over his tongue before swallowing it down with a look of pleasure.

"You taste like ambrosia, Thor," he murmured against Thor's cockhead, the vibrations sending electric thrills to the base and clenching through his balls. Thor shifted but did not break eye contact. He watched, fascinated and delighted as Loki began to place kisses on the massive cock in his delicate hands.

Every touch of those lips sent another pulse of need through Thor's body and he moaned his desire. "Loki, what you do to me, little one."

"I'm not done yet," Loki responded breathlessly and suddenly took the massive spongy head into his mouth, beginning to engulf the mighty tool.

Thor finally broke eye contact, letting his head fall back, hands clenching the marble beneath him as he felt the smooth silk of Loki's mouth, the warm heat, and . . . the tasting tongue? Trying not to buck, Thor moaned at the sensations. "Wha . . . wha . . . ah . . ." he panted, unable to speak coherently.

Loki pulled his mouth off Thor's cock and smiled at him then began to lick down the shaft, still holding Thor's erection, but not keeping his hand still. Instead, his fingers lightly stroked in time with his tongue, caressing the tool and making Thor's desire rise. At the bottom, Loki sent his tongue swirling over Thor's sack, pulling first one nut then the other into his mouth for a brief suckle, alternating between the two as he couldn't seem to fit them both.

Losing against the urge to buck his hips, Thor groaned and pushed his crotch up into Loki's face. Apparently the urgent movement was a signal Loki had waited for, as the other man smiled in approval and moved his mouth back to the tip. He then proceeded to engulf Thor's meaty cock once more, but did not stop with the head. He took much more, until Thor's cockhead banged against the back of Loki's throat, almost choking him. Thor keened but Loki merely began to suck as his hands played over the exposed shaft he'd moistened with his licking.

As Loki began to pull back, then thrust his head down, Thor bucked again, his right hand letting go of the bench to tangle in Loki's curls, tugging his want, his need. It seemed to urge the dark-haired man on as he fell into a rhythm of sucking while pulling back, nearly leaving Thor's cock, then slamming his head forward, engulfing and tasting with his clever tongue, all the while playing the remaining portion with his loving, stroking fingers.

A tightness began in Thor's balls and his shaft began to thicken even more. He felt the urge to slam himself as far as he could down Loki's throat and whimpered, holding back, afraid to hurt the other man. Loki withdrew his mouth with an obscene popping noise and looked up at Thor once more, wicked grin in place, hands moving to stroke and squeeze all of Thor's cock. Thor moaned and bucked into Loki's hands as he felt his orgasm coming close. Pre-cum leaked out of Thor's cockhead and Loki used it to keep lubricating the shaft he worked. Finally, as Thor felt his balls explode and stars burst behind his eyes, he felt Loki's mouth once more take in the tip of his massive tool, sucking at the hole and lapping up every white ropey strand Thor shot into his generous mouth.

Thor's body felt like he'd gone far longer than the typical hard hour in the arena and he struggled to keep himself upright as his fingers stilled in Loki's hair. His breath came in rasping near-sobs and he opened his eyes, pupils blown wide. He stared down at the man lovingly cleaning every last drop from his still half-erect cock, though apparently the action had caused Loki to back up directly under the waist-high faucet, his ass and lower back drenched in the pulsing flow of water. Thor's cock twitched at the delectable sight, but he knew that he could never touch the other man as he wanted to, could never give him the release he so generously awarded Thor.

When Thor had been licked clean, Loki sat back on his feet and offered a soft, almost smug smile.

"That was . . . my Gods, Loki . . ." Thor couldn't find the words to express his feelings. Finally, he settled on, "I am jealous of the other men you teach, little one."

Loki's laugh was surprisingly light and he rose to his feet, water streaming down his legs but no sign of his semi-hard-on from earlier. "You are the first one I have ever done that to, idiot. Did I not tell you time and again, I merely teach couples how to do it to each other."

Surprise washed through Thor and he straightened, a frown wiping his joyous smile away. "Then you have never felt what pleasure it is?"

Rolling his eyes, Loki spoke slowly, "Gammas do not feel pleasure, Thor. In fact, since it would be hard for the male to even fake excitement, he is often required to be pre-medicated for sessions with clients here." Loki turned and shut off the water then stepped from the shower stall. There was no need to wash Thor's cum from him this day; Loki had swallowed or licked it all up. He moved to the sink and began to wash the streak of cum from his face.

Thor stood on legs that wished to collapse, but he forced himself to follow the other man. "That hardly seems fair, little one, to never let Gammas have pleasure. The Norns are cruel if they delegate you to such a fate."

Loki whirled, still beautifully naked. _'He must be totally at ease in his own skin to parade so in front of clients and guards alike,'_ Thor thought, watching the slender hips rise into a bruised but trim, athletic abdomen then a flat, hairless chest.

"The Norns have their own reasons for what they do or do not, Thor. You would be wise not to challenge them." Loki strode through the mess of his living area and into the almost immaculate sleeping chamber.

Not wanting to miss a second of their time together, knowing it must be near the end of the hour, Thor scooped up his loincloth and followed, carrying it rather than taking the time to put it on. He stood in the doorway, watching as Loki went to his armoire and pulled out a light, almost pastel green robe, slipping into it and tying it loosely closed, once more drawing Thor's eyes to the horrible bruising and swelling across his midriff. Guilt welled up as Thor realized it couldn't have been easy for Loki to kneel in the marble shower and do what he'd done; Thor knew that doing anything on the knees also took abdominal muscles. "You should not have given me that lesson, Loki."

The other man glanced to where Thor looked and shrugged, as if unbothered by the idea of the pain he must have endured. Loki looked back up and said softly, "it is my job, idiot. Remember? I'm a _whore_." Bitterness laced the last word, though Loki smiled in a calm, accepting fashion.

Guilt welled inside the gladiator at his past use of the derogatory term, and Thor saw it for the insult Loki must have. He sighed and hung his head, blond hair sticking to his neck from sweat. "I apologize, Loki. I did not think how it might hurt you to say that word."

Surprise registered in the ice green eyes, and Loki's smile slipped. His vulnerable look came back for a moment and he opened his mouth. But his timing had been impeccable, as it had the day before, for a loud knock reverberated from the outer door marking the end of their appointment. Frustration suddenly lit the dark-haired man's eyes and he shot a glance full of annoyance towards the other room. "Yes, Ingolf. He is dressing now. You may enter." Loki turned his eyes back on Thor and merely shrugged one shoulder. "Hurtful or not," he said softly as the outer door swung open, "it is the truth. I _am_ nothing but a whore. Goodbye, Donar."

And Loki walked back out onto his balcony, into the sea breeze. He shut the doors behind him, not looking back at the gladiator in his sleeping chamber. The sound of Ingolf clearing his throat, brought a flush to Thor's cheeks and he hurriedly donned his canvas loincloth, no sign of his former semi-erection left. Loki's obvious bitter pain had wiped it completely away.

This time no argument down the hall distracted the guards from their escort duty, and Thor overheard no confusing discussion between Fandral and Rig on the stairwell landing. He probably wouldn't have anyway, as he was lost in thought over the painful curse and cruel slavery Loki had been forced into. The day before it seemed the man lived in luxury and enjoyed pleasures beyond the norm - - a cage but a gilded one. Today, Thor saw it for the prison it was: no one came to clean the destruction, no one tended to the prostitute's illness or injury beyond the minimal, and no one rescued the man when he was beaten or forced to work when ill.

 _'No one but . . . Ingolf,'_ Thor thought, head suddenly snapping around so he could study the quiet redhead beside him. Stopping, Thor drew an annoyed look from the unknown guard but a mildly curious one from Ingolf. Knowing he could find no excuse to talk to the man privately, Thor merely blurted out his thoughts, though quietly, trying to avoid letting that petty Beta bitch at the front desk overhear. "Ingolf, guard him well. He is vulnerable."

Ingolf seemed to study the gladiator a long moment before he responded in a neutral tone, "I know my job, lad. And I never shirk."

Forced to accept the man's veiled assurance, Thor nodded and began to limp down the stairs again, the lethargic feeling of minutes ago replaced now with a stiff wariness that tightened his muscles and pulled at the stitches. He tried to sound casual when he asked, "And where is Geirrod today, Ingolf? Is he not scheduled to work?"

The answer came just as calmly, but with an edge of hard satisfaction. "He displeased my lord, Laufey, and has been . . . disposed of, lad."

As they had reached the bottom of the steps, joining Fandral and Rig who'd apparently gone down before them, the Beta overheard their last words. Her head shot up and her eyes narrowed as she studied the beautiful gladiator and the normally silent guard. With a frown, she turned her head away, but not before Thor caught a glimpse of hatred in her eyes.

 _'Has Geirrod attacked her as well?'_ he wondered then frowned as he realized he had no idea if the woman even served in the capacity of a whore . . . _pleasure giver_ , he mentally corrected, flushing in remembered shame.

The thought was interrupted by Tyr's swaggering arrival and the four men left without further comment, returning quickly to the stables. Tyr strolled off to the Alpha bathhouse without even asking Sigurd, who merely nodded in acceptance. Thor shook his head as he paid obeisance to his owner, knowing that if Sigurd didn't correct Tyr's behavior soon, the slave would be ruling the master.

Fandral did not stay to chat, nor to speak with his slave, merely smiling and offering a "good noon, Sigurd," before turning and striding from the stable enclosure. Rig headed towards the bathhouse used by the main gladiatorial group and Thor followed the dark-skinned man, hoping to garner more information about Gammas . . . and Omegas, as Loki barely mentioned that nature in his brief lesson.

At the door, Thor called softly, "Rig, might I join you? I have questions you might answer for me."

The golden-eyed man turned and nodded once. "And in return, you might answer questions for me, Donar."

Thor nodded. "Of course," he answered and limped into the room, following the other man to the benches beside the communal bathing pool. Rig dropped his loincloth with as little shyness as Loki had presented, but Thor did not breach the other man's trust by staring at him. Rather he sank to the bench and listened as Rig scrubbed from a bucket then dumped the water over himself before finally sinking into the hot pool. Thor grabbed a cloth and began to sponge the sweat from his own body as Rig settled against the pool's smooth wall, his back to the golden-haired gladiator.

Thor finally paused in his ministrations and asked, "Rig, where you are from is it shameful for men to lie with one another?"

The dark gladiator did not turn, merely answering in a soft rumble, 'Nay, it is accepted, though not common, Donar.

Thor sighed and began to wash again. "And do . . ." he paused then pushed on with his questions. "Do you think an Alpha should always rule? Or that a Beta deserves only servitude?"

Rig finally turned to face him, respectfully keeping his eyes on Thor's while the other gladiator continued to absently run the cloth over his body, not truly bathing any more in his search for answers. The golden eyes study Thor's blue before Rig began to speak, his voice sounding wise and sure.

"Alphas are the fighters and protectors, strong and built to work hard and fight harder. It is why they most often rule. They can take charge when it is needed. An Alpha Prime is the leader of all Alphas, and we are blessed that our Allfather is of such a nature. Minor Alphas are often the noblemen or town leaders and generals, but in a thousand people, only one hundred might be Alphas and one an Alpha Prime. Of the other nine hundred, six hundred would be Betas, making them our largest population and the true workers and keepers of tradition and peace. Many Betas are in the army, Donar, but they let the Alphas guide them. A true Alpha does not take leadership where it is not offered, as he would be outnumbered and overcome by the masses. Tyr is unwise to believe as he does and will find himself at a disadvantage if he ever leaves the Alpha-dominated gladiatorial arenas for the Beta-dominated real world."

Dropping his hand, and the pretense of washing, Thor nodded; the information was similar to what Loki had imparted, though it seemed less biased when Rig explained it. "And Gammas?" Thor asked. "Are they only ever used as slaves, Rig?"

"No," Rig said, causing Thor to snap his head up to meet that golden gaze. "Gammas are the workhorse of all the nine realms, Donar. They work harder, longer, and better than any other nature. While Betas are tending shops, tilling fields, raising children, and doing many of the common labors that keep a world running smoothly, Gammas take on the dangerous work. They work deep mines where there is more danger than any battlefield. They construct our buildings, lifting heavy stones far more efficiently than any beta group can arrange. They are the soldiers in the trenches sent into the suicide marches and the stalkers of men who have eschewed the laws of common decency. Gammas are loyal and fearless and deserve our respect."

"That is pretty thinking, Rig, but the only Gammas I have known are slaves." Thor slumped at the thought of Loki denied the life Rig suggested. "It is a fantasy to think they are so revered."

Rig rose from the hot water and moved to sink onto the bench beside Thor. He placed a hand on his shoulder, garnering the big blond's attention, before dropping the contact once more. "No, Donar, what you have seen is a mere fraction, a small representation, of what is truly out there. I have seen much in my years. I am ever watchful and know things you could never imagine. Think hard, Donar, and know the truth. You have seen Gamma slaves tending gladiators or pleasuring others in a carnal house. But you have also seen Beta and Alpha slaves sold into slavery to pay debts, or captured in war and forced unwilling to fight for entertainment. Have you not only had access to a mere handful of freemen but a great many slaves of any nature?"

The words ran through his head and Thor slowly came to understand what Rig meant. "But that . . . why . . ." He stuttered to a stop, unable to express the myriad thoughts clamoring for sudden attention.

With a nod, Rig continued. "Why does the Allfather and Allmother allow slavery? Why would anyone willingly sell himself into servitude?" At Thor's nod, Rig shook his head. "Because prisoners must be dealt with. Criminals must be made to pay. Debt must be honored. And all must be given the opportunity to earn back their freedom once lost." Rig reached for a towel and offered it to Thor then grabbed one for himself and wrapped it around his waist, Thor following suit. "Your world is tiny, Donar, and in it the slaves are numerous. But truly, in the wider world, slaves are but five of the thousand."

"I know not how to sum, Rig, and so your numbers mean little to me," Thor revealed his confusion.

Rig nodded and rose, signalling Thor to follow him. They walked through a door at the back of the bathhouse, into a storage room. Rig glanced around and seemed satisfied with the many towels, bottles for muskoil, scrapers, and bars of soap. He gestured around. "The towels are the Betas, Donar. See how they outnumber all else, even as a mass?"

Thor looked around the well stocked room and his eyes lit up in sudden understanding. "Yes. Yes I see. The Betas are numerous indeed!" He turned slowly, ignoring the ache in his thigh as he looked over the many towels. "And the washing cloths? Are they Betas as well?"

Amusement rumbled in Rig's deep voice and he affirmed, "Aye, Donar. They are the male Betas. And the soap are Gammas, and truly more necessary than the Betas in bathing, are they not?"

The understanding kept coming, and suddenly Thor did not feel as stupid or blind as he felt only earlier that afternoon. "Yes, you need soap to get clean, but can use your hands to wash and the air to dry. Show me more, Rig."

Rig nodded once. "Now the oil bottles are the Alphas, they are not needed but useful, and really can be very versatile if required. After all, a bottle can hold many things aside from sweat and dirt and oil combined."

Thor touched one of the glass bottles and smiled. "And the scrapers?"

"Merely scrapers, Donar," Rig answered with a chuckle. "Now, see these buckets. They are not many, but hold great purpose. They are the female Alphas. Much more important than the Alphas you might think, but not truly. They have equal but different jobs. You can hardly expect to fill a bucket with muskoil or rinse with a tiny bottle."

Beaming his sunny smile at the other gladiator, Thor looked around, trying to add to his understanding by demonstrating that he could figure out one of the last pieces to the puzzle. Finally, he got it and flung his arms wide, ignoring the twinge through his stitches. "And the entire storage house is the Alpha Prime, for without its protection and organization, the rest scatters and is useless or destroyed by weather or vandals or animals on the prowl!"

"Exactly, Donar, exactly." Rig praised, returning the smile, though his was more subdued as if the war prisoner had little experience with the expression.

Finally, Thor turned and dropped his hands and his smile. "And what of Omegas, Rig? I am told they are killed when detected. That they are abominations before the Gods." Fear crept into Thor's voice at the concept, still worried that when he finally was sexed, he would be revealed as the hated Omega Loki spoke little of.

Rig's eyes softened and he shook his head. "The practice of killing Omegas was very real, very horrifying, but has been outlawed for over a thousand years . . . since just after Odin claimed the throne from his dying father, Bor, long before you were even considered a glimmer in your father's eye." The dark-skinned warrior turned and led Thor from the storeroom. He sank onto their bench and patted it, indicating Thor should sit as well.

As Thor sank to the hardwood, Rig lowered his voice to a mere whisper, though Thor heard it easily in the quiet bathhouse. "There have been times of population problems, Donar, which meant the people would starve if too many existed. With an increase of people, the leaders were hard pressed to fill their bellies and give them occupation. And thus, the people had an uprising and found their own solution to the hunger. They hunted down every Omega and killed them all. Then, when the king sent troops to control the mass murders, the people overthrew the king and slaughtered his family. This was in the time of Odin's father's father. The people found a different Alpha Prime, a Delta . . ."

"Delta?" Thor had never heard this term at all and questioned it immediately.

"Yes," Rig replied. "Deltas are Alpha Primes who do not wish to let another rule them. Often Primes will bide their time and wait for an upheaval to take over from the current Prime. But when a Prime cannot wait for such civil unrest or the current Prime's death or serious illness, he becomes a Delta, going rogue and leaving to form his own following. They are dangerous and are to be watched at all times, as these are often the instigators of treason and civil war. Thus, when the people killed the king, they chose a strong Delta to be their new Prime. And that was Bor's father, Buri. It was he who decreed that Omegas would be executed at discovery, in order to control the population."

Thor frowned fiercely at the unjust act of the ancient king. "But how was that deemed acceptable? What had Omegas done to deserve this death sentence?"

Rig answered simply, "they are more fertile than anyone else, Donar."

"What?" Thor looked at Rig, confusion in his blue eyes. "I do not understand."

Looking over the room, Rig said "Beta females can produce two to four children in their lifetime of approximately five thousand years, yes?"

Thor nodded. "Yes," he agreed slowly, knowing that was what Loki had said earlier.

"But an Omega is capable of producing a child with each heat. She comes into heat every three to five years. Now you do not know sums, so let me put it to you in storeroom." Rig offered Thor a small, almost teasing smile. "If an Omega were to be permitted to breed, she could produce the same number of towels in her lifetime as what is in that storeroom, Donar. And if every Omega were permitted to breed, the towels would overrun the entire stable, the brothel, and the entire town. Thus, to control population, the Omegas were slaughtered, never being permitted to produce offspring and flood the world with more people."

A long silence passed between the pair before Thor finally asked, "But what if an Omega mated with a Gamma? Then no children could be produced."

Rig laughed at that, genuinely laughed, a long loud roll of sound pleasing to the ear. "A solution I am sure the Omegas would be only too happy to practice, Donar. You think like a Prime." He continued, not giving Thor time to absorb the compliment, "However, Odin came up with a different solution. You see, while it is good theory to provide Omegas with Gamma mates, it does not work that way in nature. An Omega goes into heat and needs to breed. If she is not mated, she will go into fever then madness then death. And by mated, Donar, I mean breeding. An Omega cannot survive a heat without becoming pregnant. One of the solutions was to mate her with a Beta, but that never worked, either. A Beta man is fertile enough to create pregnancy, but another problem was discovered. An Omega's heat continued into pregnancy unless she was knotted by an Alpha."

"Knotted?" Thor asked, another term he was unfamiliar with. Truly, Sigurd never discussed sex in the stable except to tell the men that they must fight and not rut as being _ergi_ was unacceptable.

Looking quickly at Thor, Rig again glanced over the room, this time staring at the storeroom door as if he saw something of great import there. "Knotting is when an Alpha's penis becomes embedded in his mate, sometimes for hours. It occurs when the pair are sexually compatible, not just able to breed. The penis will often double in size and a great knot will form at the head, full of life giving semen. This knot is created after the penis is embedded in the mate, and thus cannot be removed until the knot is empty. A minor Alpha will not always bond with the mate he knots, though a child can be produced none-the-less, but a Prime always bonds with such a mate. An Alpha only ever knots when his body has found the perfect mate for him, one who can rule by his side, be it another Alpha, a Beta, or," Rig turned his steady gaze on Thor and said, "an Omega."

Thor groaned, putting his head in his hands. He felt sure Rig knew he was Omega from that very wise look. Softly, dreading the answer, he asked "and are Omegas always female?"

"No," came the expected answer, causing Thor to groan again. Rig continued, however, apparently ignoring Thor's distress. "An Omega is often female, but, rarely, a male Omega happens."

Standing, Thor limped away from the man on the other bench and began to pace the bathing room like a caged lion.

Rig watched him and continued to speak. "The word abomination was never given to female Omegas, Donar. It was bestowed on the male Omegas only, for male Omegas can produce children as easily as a female."

Shaking his golden head, Thor moaned out, "yes, I understand, they are fertile and can impregnate a female Alpha, which is hard for anyone else to do."

"Yes, but they can also _be_ impregnated."

Thor stopped short and turned slowly to Rig, eyes widening in dawning horror. "What?"

Rig lifted his hands in a gesture of near helplessness, though the warrior seemed far from helpless. "You heard me correctly, Donar. A male Omega can sire children on a woman, but can also bear a babe _like a woman_. During a population explosion, this ability can threaten the entire social structure, as his offspring could outnumber everyone rather quickly. A male Omega only goes into heat when he is ready to bear a child, but can produce offspring with women even if not in a heat. The most infertile seeming of Beta women will seek out a male Omega to provide her the child she so desperately seeks. Alpha women also desiring children will seek out male Omegas as well, as even an Alpha Prime may have trouble siring a child on a female Alpha."

"Will?" Thor asked, feeling overwhelmed, his head beginning to whirl at the sudden influx of information. "Will seek?"

"Naturally." Rig confirmed. "As I have said, when Odin took the throne, he changed the laws. Omegas were still sought but not to be killed. Rather they are taken to the temple and protected there. They are kept infertile with potions until a population decrease happens or a proven infertile woman or man wishes a child. Then the daily druggings are ceased and the Omega allowed to mate with the child seeker. It is considered a great honor to have a child with an Omega, and petitioners are carefully screened so only the truly needy are allowed in. The child of an Omega is granted full education by the royal house, his or her life blessed by the gods, as it were."

Thor sank back down on the bench beside Rig, intently watching him. "You said in times of population decrease? What then? How do they screen the petitioners then?"

Rig studied Thor's face and smiled softly at him. "Well, then the Allmother chooses random names of Alphas: Primes, and Deltas, as well as minors, from the entire population. The Alpha is granted permission to go to the temple and mate with an Omega of the temple's choosing. Once an Alpha has had his turn, his name is removed from any future selections until every Alpha gets an opportunity for such an honor. Each Omega is allowed to breed with an Alpha once to become great with child. Then, when the child is born and weaned, the Betas are permitted to be drawn from this fertility lottery, as it were. The priests keep careful track of which Omega mates with whom and how often she produces a child, so not more than three children from any Omega coupling is born. Thus, the population increases threefold, but is still in control. After all, an Omega is rarer than any other nature except Alpha Primes. It is believed that for every Alpha Prime an Omega is born, though with this current system, they rarely find one another."

Tilting his head, Thor asked, "find one another? You mean bonding? Knotting?"

"I do mean such," Rig nodded once. "As the priests choose which Omega mates with whom, rarely is a perfect bond found. However, if such happens, the Omega is permitted to leave the temple and marry the bondmate. But there are complications, as well, Donar. If an Omega's bondmate dies, the Omega often goes immediately into a heat which cannot be quenched with any other mate. This heat drives her insane and she often has to be put to death. As Alphas are the generals and forward soldiers, death can come often."

Silently, Thor thought over the fate of said Omega. Carefully, he asked, "you mentioned potions to prevent heats and fertility until the Omega is needed? Can a widowed Omega take these potions?"

Rig stood to stretch then sat back down, amazing Thor with how well he could sit still for long periods. "Yes. In fact, she is encouraged to take such drugs, though there are heavy side effects which leave the woman ill and listless. If the potions do not help, or are refused, the priests neuter her."

"Neuter?" Thor asked about the third strange word.

"Yes. Her womb and other baby producing areas are removed, relieving the heat permanently. She will never again produce children, but will not suffer from the loss of her bondmate. No one ever has a second bondmate. They are unique and for life."

Without conscious thought, Thor placed his hand over his hard, muscled abdomen and asked, "and male Omegas? Can someone bond with one? Is he also dosed or neutered in widowhood?"

Seemingly having no difficulty in sorting out Thor's jumbled questions, Rig answered, "It is the same for male Omegas as for female Omegas, though they are rarer and no Alpha has yet bonded with one in the thousand years they have been living in the temples. The law stands that if a male Omega be found, he is to be given every courtesy granted a female Omega, including the right to infertility if needed or desired." Rig looked at Thor steadily. "It is rare, but sometimes an Omega will request infertility after having several children. It is rarer, but not denied an Omega, if the infertility request comes before any mating. And by request, I mean neutering, Donar, as the Omega has the right to refuse any children. It is her . . . or his body and therefore his choice. Even in population needs. The Allmother has deemed it so." After some silence, Rig softly questioned, "why so interested in Omegas, Donar? Do you know one in hiding perhaps? I do hear that in some far flung villages the people still believe in the old ways for many things . . . including Omega exterminations, though the Allfather has regular patrols to discourage such barbarism. If your Omega friend is in danger, Fandral can help - - he has the king's ear."

Thor groaned and shook his head, putting it in his hands once more. "Nothing of the sort, Rig. I . . . I fear that _I_ am the Omega."

If Thor expected Rig to laugh at his concern, he was disappointed. Rig's tone remained serious and soft when he asked, "why do you think you may be Omega, Donar? Have you begun a heat?"

"Heat?" Thor looked up. "I do not even know how a heat goes."

Rig answered just as seriously, "an increase in the desire to mate is a good sign, but such also happens in young Alphas, so is no sure test. An Omega heat will ensue in fever, heightened awareness, sometimes even a bloody discharge from the passage to the womb to signify it is ready for an infant. The Omega becomes sensitive and swollen at the genitalia, easily aroused, and very seductive, as she . . . or he tries to lure a mate in for breeding. Sensitivity has been noted in the breast area for many, though not all, and a first heat often comes suddenly and strong and will shift into heat fever within hours rather than days if not tended."

Thor blinked and shook his head. "I have noticed no blood, but plenty of swelling, Rig. I am randy just thinking about him. I feel feverish at times, but none of the other symptoms seem to apply. I certain do not feel a fever so strong it will drive me mad."

"Him?" Rig latched onto the one word above all others.

Thor groaned and stood, restlessly pacing, aware of his rising erection even as he thought of Loki. "Yes. The Gamma I have seen this day and last. He is ever on my mind and I cannot help but become hard around him." He looked down and flushed. "Or when thinking of him. It is wrong. It is _ergi_ , Rig. Men do not lie with men!" He dreaded looking at Rig and seeing disgust or even amusement at the problem Thor faced concerning another man.

But the golden eyes held no laughter. They appeared serious and calm. He softly said "you have the symptoms of an Alpha first coming to maturity, Donar, not an Omega. Often by the age of twenty a male will have been sexed, but you are twenty-two and so have to suffer for the wait."

"But I desire a man, Rig, do you not understand? Is that normal for unsexed Alphas?"

"A few." Rig answered simply then added "but the more reasonable assumption is that the Gamma is not a Gamma at all. Is it possible he is an Omega, Donar?"

Shock coursed through Thor at the idea, and he toyed with the delicious implications that Loki might be able to make love with him. But then he let the fantasy go and shook his head. "No, he's a Gamma. He is not easily aroused and does not stay so for long. I have only seen him semi-hard in fact. He is unable to become aroused or have sex. He has told me. It is why he teaches."

Rig nodded once and said, "Beta men sometimes find pleasure with one another or even an Alpha minor. Males are at times attracted to other males. It is no shame." At Thor's look of disbelief, the golden-eyed man continued. "Of course, without a womb, a man cannot produce children with another man, but he is not shunned for his feelings in the general populace. Alphas have been known to scorn such men, but Odin does not tolerate this injustice in his court and is swift to punish those who would abuse such men."

"Well it isn't acceptable to be _ergi_ in the stables, Rig." Thor retaliated, barely registering that Rig would know so much of life at court. "In fact, not only is it taboo, it is punishable. An _ergi_ man is taken before all the stable and chained to a post. Then each gladiator is to whip him strongly twice, once for the insult and once for the unnaturalness. After the whippings, the _ergi_ is left chained without food or water for three days. If he survives, he is sold to someone who does not know his shame. If he dies, he is left to rot in a field, not even given the honor of feeding the guard beasts as those who die in the arena are allowed."

"Perhaps that is because the stable masters wish to channel the sexual energy into fighting rather than mating at night in the bunkhouse or sleep cells." Rig stood finally and stepped over to Thor but did not touch him. "I will not tell your secret, Donar."

Thor turned confused eyes on the very accepting Rig, studying the dark man with wonder. Finally, he asked "where are you from, Rig. It is said you are a war prisoner but not from which land you hail."

"My past is no concern now as no man can return to his youth," Rig replied.

This frustrated Thor, but he didn't argue. Instead he said "you and your master are looking for someone. Have you found him?"

Rig studied Thor a long moment then answered. "I believe we found one of the men we seek."

"Are you really a gladiator, Rig?" Thor challenged, wondering suddenly if this man who seemed on such easy terms with a royal guard was perhaps more than he appeared.

As if reading Thor's thoughts, Rig answered "I am a gladiator while I am here. But I have a higher purpose, and Fandral aids me in my quest."

"Who do you seek?" Thor felt curiosity well up, almost enough to block out his private fears concerning Loki.

"I seek the missing princes," Rig replied without elaboration.

Thor sighed and nodded. "You mean the children of the Allfather? They are stolen, Loki says."

Rig seemed to become alert, stiffening slightly. "Loki?"

Thor nodded again but didn't question Rig's attitude. Instead he answered, "Yes, the Gamma at _The House of Laufey_. He says the Allfather's sons were stolen and no one knows where they are hidden."

Golden eyes bored into blue as Rig carefully asked, "And this . . . Loki . . . how long has he been in the brothel?"

Thor shrugged slightly, not understanding why that would be important. He said, "Loki has always been there. His father is the Laufey who owns it." Thor switched back to the subject of the missing princes, frowning and asking "do you think they still live, Rig?"

Rig studied him again in silence. Finally, he too frowned, golden eyes narrowing slightly. Softly, he replied, "It is said that one son was killed by his dam years ago, but the other two might be hidden away or even sold."

Not believing the Allmother would kill one of her children, Thor let that rumor go and asked, "So there were three sons, then? And so the Allfather has no heirs left."

"I think the three princes are still very much alive, and I may have found them, but only time and work shall reveal if I am blessed by the Norns."

Thor shook his head with a great sigh. "Yes, the Norns have played havoc in many lives." He thought briefly of Loki's seizures. Finally, he said, "I'll go rest now, though these days without training are frustrating to me." He limped to the door before stopping at Rig's next question.

"Donar is your name in the arena?"

"Yes," Thor looked over. "And yours is Rig."

"Yes," he replied. After a pause, Rig asked "But you were called something else before you came here?"

Thor nodded. "All gladiators are given a fighting name, to protect their identity if they should ever be able to return to the outside life. So that no one else might know they once served as slaves."

"I would call you . . . friend," Rig said still softly. "If you allow it."

Thor beamed his broad smile, as if the sun burst through a bank of clouds, his exhaustion fading slightly at the gesture. "Yes, I would call you friend as well."

Rig watched Thor, the bathing room stretching between them. Finally he asked, "might I be friends with the man as well as the gladiator?"

Laughing suddenly, the rich sound rolling around the room, Thor agreed. "Aye, if I may do the same, friend."

Rig nodded, his slight smile briefly appearing. "I am called Heimdall."

With a nod, Thor answered, "Good to meet you Heimdall, my friend. And I am born Thor Odinson. I wish you good eve," and with that he threw his left hand in the air in farewell and strode from the room, not looking back at the thoughtful golden-eyed man behind him.


	7. Searching and Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is about to get even darker than it already has. Note the warnings.
> 
> Loki . . .

The sea breeze held no comfort for him as he stood, hands poised on cold hard marble, winter ice eyes staring over the roiling, crashing breakers below. For the first time Loki saw himself not as the most sought after artisan of the entire _House_ , but as a piece of pretty property to be ruled or ignored or discarded by someone else. Faintly he heard the suite door close, signaling Thor's exit. Loki turned, leaning back on the marble rail, wrapped his arms around himself in a protective fashion, and let the tears fall. Bowing his head, Loki felt for the first time that his life was shameful, depraved - - and so very beyond his control. He saw himself as Thor must see him, as Geirrod certainly had seen him, as a man who lived to get on his knees and service others in the most primal way: a true whore.

Slowly, the humiliation and despair settled into a dull, aching hatred. Loki refused to hate Thor; the big blond only spoke what he'd been taught. He was an honest idiot at least. No, the twenty year old prostitute reserved his hate for his father, Laufey, who, as Thor had pointed out several times, forced his son to whore himself - - and to risk his life with each appointment. A new thought enveloped Loki. _'Does Father hate me? Does he want me found? Is he tired of hiding me - - of spending money on the hard to obtain inhibitor drugs?'_

A quick knock on the suite door drew Loki from his dark musings and his head shot up, reddened eyes trained on the slowly opening door. Loki reached up and wiped at his eyes then opened the balcony doors. Trying to dredge up the calm Laufey taught him all well-respected people displayed when feeling their worst, Loki stepped into his sleep room, though he still felt shame and heartache.

Ingolf entered the suite carrying a tray of food, not covered this time, with the medicine bottle sitting next to the plate. Laufey had probably refused to have a store of the inhibitor brought up since Loki's overdose. Behind him was the new guard, hired only that morning. Upon turning towards Loki, Ingolf's face switched from neutral reserve to anger and he thrust the food tray into the other man's hands. "Take this, Hogun." He turned back to Loki. "Lad?" concern vibrated through his tone as he hurriedly closed the distance between them.

Somehow, his worry made Loki feel less - - unlovable. Ingolf had begun working for Laufey when the _House_ had first opened, as far back as Loki could recall. The man had begun as a front room guard when still a teen; a few years ago, he'd been promoted to Loki's personal bodyguard and keeper, one of only four, and the only one who ever responded if Loki asked for something. With the attack, and Ingolf's intervention, of the day before something seemed to have shifted in their relationship, for the redhead apparently felt free to pull Loki against his strong chest, engulfing him in strong protective arms - - a mere shadow of what Thor's embrace would feel like, yet as close as Loki could ever dare get.

The young brunet broke into tears once more, clutching spastically at Ingolf's shoulders and back, face burying in the rough flax weave of his guard uniform tunic. Ingolf raised a hand to stroke through Loki's damp, tangled curls. He softly murmured meaningless noises, soothing nonsense. Seemingly ignoring the other guard, Ingolf finally bent slightly to slip his other arm under Loki's knees, picking him up and carrying him three steps to the bed. He settled on the soft mattress, the weeping man held protectively on his lap, and went back to stroking Loki's hair, much as a parent comforting a small child.

After several long, heart wrenching minutes, Loki's sobs lessened and he stilled his frantic grasping. Drawing a shaky breath, he turned his head and laid his uninjured cheek against the scratchy tunic, his body still jerking with the occasional sob. His swollen eyes barely registered the new guard, Hogun, as the young Vanir man placed the tray on the chair and scooped up the medicine vial.

Softly, throat hoarse from the tears, Loki whispered "kill me, Ingolf . . . please."

The guard stiffened, hand stilling in Loki's curls, but Loki didn't care about the other man's touch. It didn't affect him as Thor's did. It didn't drive the feared desire high; it merely felt comforting and paternal. At the reminder of the big blond gladiator, Loki pulled away from Ingolf's chest, sitting up on his lap and looking into his deep brown eyes. "You know my _curse_ , Ingolf . . . the reason for my medicine . . . what I suffer before and after. Death would be a mercy." He paused but as Ingolf opened his mouth to reply, Loki stroked a hand pleadingly down the guard's chest, nothing seductive in the desperate gesture. "I have jewels you can use to flee . . ."

Ingolf cut Loki off, his voice serious and admonishing. "Nay, lad, that I will not do. Least of the problems you present me, Master Laufey would accuse me of theft and have me hunted and sold, and I like being a freeman." He cupped Loki's face in both hands, careful of the bruising, and gently wiped at his tears with large thumbs. "Most importantly, I feel nothing is as unsolvable as it may seem. Death is a permanent solution to a temporary problem, lad. So I would prefer to fix what ails you in a less drastic fashion."

Loki groaned. "I do not think this . . . _curse_ can be fixed, Ingolf." Bitterness swelled through every word.

"Are you bonded with anyone, lad?" Ingolf asked softly, to which Loki groaned and shook his head, still ignoring Hogun's presence, though the unfamiliar guard could cause trouble later. "Then perhaps the temple can help you," Ingolf offered. "They can certainly afford to buy your contract."

With the worst of the emotional storm subsided, Loki's wish for death became merely an embarrassing desperate plea he hadn't really wanted to act on. However, Ingolf's words struck a chord and he listened intently. The man seemed to have ideas, though Loki had no desire to wind up dead in the temple once his nature was ferreted out by the priests. As he listened Loki reached over to the nearby tray and ran a finger through a creamy, chilled custard dessert included with his meal. It was actually his favorite dessert. Lifting the drip of lemon-flavored treat to his lips, he slid the finger into his mouth and suckled, eyes shutting in enjoyment.

Hogun cleared his throat, and Loki's eyes shot open. He noticed the guard looked uncomfortable, his eyes staring intently at the open balcony door as if the secrets of the nine realms might be found etched in the patterned glass. Raising one elegant eyebrow, Loki continued to suck his finger, not correcting his unconsciously erotic behavior even though he was now aware just what silent message he had conveyed. _'If he cannot keep himself neutral, he can be replaced,'_ Loki thought waspishly. _'I'm sick of being treated as if I have no say in my life.'_ The suicidal thought of only moments ago had been replaced quite firmly with an angry determination. Pulling the finger from his mouth, doing so without giving in to the temptation to make obscene noises, Loki asked disapprovingly, "is something wrong, Hogun?"

The new guard kept his eyes on the windowed door, but, much to Loki's surprise, he actually responded. "Yes . . . uh . . . sir. Crying makes me nervous."

 _'Sir?'_ That wasn't the only thing that made the man nervous, Loki'd bet, but Hogun's respect instantly endeared the guard to the prostitute. "Liar," he accused, but, feeling fully in control again, he pushed out of Ingolf's arms and rose, dipping his finger in his dessert and once more sucking the creamy custard off. When he was done the second taste, he said, "but I appreciate your discretion so I forgive the lie." Turning, Loki broke protocol yet again to ask hopefully, "can I get more custard, Ingolf? I do love it." He deliberately rounded his eyes in a practiced hopeful look.

The redhead grunted and stood. "If you do not further harm yourself, lad, I'll see you get a pot full. First, you'll tell me if that gladiator hurt you. I warned him you weren't well."

"You did?" That surprised Loki and he dropped his hand from his mouth, studying his guard. Never had a customer been told to take care of Loki's feelings or health before. Finally, he answered, "No, Donar did not hurt me. Far from it." Glancing over at Hogun, Loki couched his next words in a small riddle he hoped Ingolf would solve and Hogun would mistaken. "But he made me wish I could share his pleasures . . . like no other, he makes me rue being such a . . . neuter as Gammas are."

Understanding instantly lit Ingolf's brown eyes and he nodded in agreement. "Aye, tis hard, lad. At times we meet with someone who makes us wish the Norns had twisted us a different fate." He caught Loki's gaze and enunciated, "but it is dangerous to defy the Norns, lad. We must play the hand we are dealt and not look for another."

Tilting his head, curls swiping the soft material of his robe, Loki frowned. "Is a bluff as good as a bid, though?"

Both turned in shock when Hogun let out a snort. He held up his hands and shook his head, amusement lighting his dark eyes, though his face remained impassive. "I apologize, but you dance around your words as if this is some great secret of war. I'll not give you away, sir, trust me. I had a first love once, too, and she was as unreachable as the stars." The twinkle died out and left the guard looking grim. "There is no law that a Gamma may not feel love and attraction, even if he cannot feel desire of a . . . baser nature."

Swift anger rose and Loki frowned, narrowing his red-rimmed eyes. "You dare mock me?"

Hogun shook his head, "No! I . . ."

"Calm down, lad," admonished Ingolf. "He is on your side. I chose him myself from the hiring rooms." Ingolf reached over and tweaked Loki's rumpled robe back up to cover his shoulder; the young man hadn't even been aware it had slipped. "Now, if you've calmed yourself," Ingolf continued, "can you tell me how you wish me to deal with this impossible love you feel for the gladiator? Should I ban him to spare your heart?"

"You keep trying to ban him, Ingolf. Truly, what have you against the big idiot?" But Loki felt unsure if the guards truly meant their offer of silence, of help. He hesitated to set himself up for punishment later; Laufey could be quite cruel in doling out punishment, though he had little reason to do so to his son since Loki made such a large profit for him. Slowly, he said, "no. I can deal with Donar, but I . . . thank you," Loki bowed his head slightly, "for your words of comfort." He lifted his face to warily study the two Betas, trying to puzzle through what was happening.

Ingolf nodded concisely. "You are welcome, lad." He paused then added, "if ever you need me, call. I will come running."

With that, Ingolf tapped Hogun's shoulder and gestured toward the door. As they walked out, the redhead turned to say "wait for your custard before your medicine or you might spill your favorite dessert." Then the pair left and the key locked into place with a soft click.

Dipping his finger a third time in the lemon custard, Loki absently licked it clean as he studied the door. Laufey had told him that Betas were not immune to an Omega's unnatural heats and yet, unlike that Alpha Geirrod, these two had not looked at him as a sexual plaything. Rather, they took turns trying to comfort him, speaking to him as equals, not down to him as a lesser Gamma slave. They had treated him as if his feelings and thoughts mattered . . . as Thor had.

Giving his finger another lick, Loki let his eyes rove his gilded prison until they fell on the glass-fronted curio stand across the room. Among the vials of oil and perfume lay valuable gifts from appreciative rich clients of the past. And there was all that jewelry and gems in the drawer below, including those which he'd offered Ingolf in exchange for his death. Slowly, Loki's brilliant mind mulled over the possibilities. Ingolf had said the temple could afford his contract, reminding Loki that even _he_ must have a contract; it was the Allfather's Laws of Debt and Servitude which demanded that all slaves have a means to freedom, so all slaves had a set selling price or release date lodged with the local magistrates.

He had funds - - or, at the least, access to wealth in the form of jewelry, gems, and trinkets. Could he afford to buy Thor's debt? If he owned the gladiator, he could free him. A crafty smile slid across Loki's fine features, stretching the bruised cheek painfully, though he ignored the discomfort. Once Thor was free, Loki could give him the funds to buy Loki's slave contract. Laufey could hardly deny Loki's sale for the designated price. Together Loki and Thor could go far from here, buy some land or a small shop, and live together. He was sure he could procure the inhibitor; Laufey could tell him where to purchase it.

The knock on his door drew Loki out of the fantasy, but he refused to let it go completely. Details would need to be worked out, but it could happen. All he needed was to tell Thor on the morrow then give him one of the trinkets, one a gladiator might receive from an impressed lady. After years of working off his debt, it couldn't be that expensive any more or Thor's master was a liar. And Loki could deal with a liar; after all, he was a master at the skill himself, though he usually only used it with clients.

Ingolf placed a medium pot of the sweet-tart custard dessert on the chair beside the food tray, drawing Loki's eyes. He slowly looked over the redhead and wondered if Ingolf would agree to act as go between, in case Thor had no more appointments. The man did offer to get the temple involved, so why not help Loki with the double purchase of two slaves, even if they included the man doing the purchasing? Offering the guard a sweet smile such as he had not granted since his childhood, when he'd had free run of the kitchens and guard level before his lessons had begun, Loki plunked with little grace onto his bed to begin his luncheon and work out the details of his freedom, not noticing when the bemused redhead left the suite, locking him in once more.

After lunch, Loki took his daily dosage and sank onto the bed to wait out the debilitating symptoms then drift into sleep. But when he awoke an hour later, restlessness filled him. He rose to go shower and wrinkled his nose in disgust at the still filthy rooms; no cleaning slave had been there in the last two days. Loki idly wondered if the Beta assistant running the _House_ in Laufey's absence had deliberately slighted him, but he determined that, aside from assigning him Thor, Hertha probably had forgotten his existence, many people did. With a shrug, Loki quickly washed his hands and face then relieved himself in the commode, pleased he hadn't soiled himself during this last seizure, one of the truly embarrassing side effects of the medicine-induced convulsions. He again washed his hands.

Loki preferred a clean, orderly home, though in his youth he had been prone to breaking things during angry temper tantrums. Laufey had an equally hot temper and the few screaming matches between them, back before Loki had been enslaved, had been something the entire staff had feared. As he stooped to pick up the medical supplies, Loki frowned, trying to recall what he'd done exactly that had resulted in his enslavement. He used to run around the grounds, but never the neighboring town, so it must have had something to do with the _House_ itself, but he couldn't recall what crime he had committed or precisely when. Surprised, Loki realized that, like Thor, he had trusted his master to let him know when his contract had been satisfied, pretty much ignoring his enslaved status over the years. Unlike Thor, though, Loki's master was his own father and so he knew he could trust the man; could Thor really trust his own debt buyer, Sigurd?

Standing, Loki stretched his back then moved to the sink to neatly put back his supplies, mentally noting that he would need more bandaging as tending Thor had taken quite a bit of the small stock. He shut the marble-fronted cabinet then began gathering used bathing cloths and towels as well as the fluffy robe of earlier that still sat on the floor. Loki carried the heap of dirty laundry to the living area and placed it beside the outside door, not having anywhere else to put it. When the guards returned that night, they could take the pile and inform Hertha of her forgetfulness . . . possibly even in front of Laufey, which would get her some punishment. Loki smiled at the thought of Hertha being disciplined without having to reveal Thor's visits.

He turned to survey the living area and frowned. There was nothing he could do for the blood, but perhaps he could get up some of the dried food and mud. And those pillows would need replacing. And that robe. Loki strode over and scooped up the destroyed silk. _'Damn, that was one of my favorites. The color suits me so well.'_ He sighed and gave a shrug, dropping that, too, in the laundry pile. As he cleaned, gathering the towel he'd discarded on the sleep room floor two days before and wetting then lathering it at the sink, Loki considered how to approach his father about his contract. It would require finesse to be sure. Loki knelt by the worse of the mess on the carpet and began to scrub, a chore his delicate hands were not used to, but something he would probably be required to do daily if he and Thor were to run away together. _'Father will need to be in a good mood before I approach him, I think.'_ Well, the cleaning might help in that respect. If lucky, the mess would appear less expensive to fix after the food and mud were removed, putting Laufey in a more generous frame of mind.

So busy in his impromptu work and his deep scheming, Loki never noticed that his evening appointment didn't arrive. He merely absently accepted the food his guards brought, nodding his thanks as they silently removed the dirty laundry. Later he would remember that the evening guards, Gunne and Arvind, were the ones who'd checked on him before locking him in for the night, but still nothing was said about customers or the lack thereof. Loki's head stuffed full of plans, his hands aching from the hard work of the afternoon and evening, he showered then went to bed nude, without realizing he'd had the second evening of his adult life alone.

Once more the morning sun shining over his face woke the sleeping prostitute. He sat up with a frown, his stomach feeling uneasy, a restlessness filling his being. With a sigh he got up and walked to his armoire, opening it and studying the robes inside, vaguely aware of but unbothered by the idea that he owned no under garments, outer clothing, shoes, or even sleep things. His entire wardrobe consisted of robes; after all he spent most of his day by himself and the rest entertaining clients who expected their instructor to be as nude as they were. The sound of the door to the suite opening barely caught his attention and he selected a powder blue robe of light satin to slip into.

His father's voice drew him from his reverie. "Yes, it's in the back of my carriage. Move it yourself, Ingolf. I don't want some clutz dropping and destroying this batch. That medicine's expensive."

"Yes, Master Laufey," Ingolf's calm voice replied. "Master, Hertha has mentioned that there's trouble with one of the women."

"Oh?" Laufey's voice dropped a few degrees. He never appreciated trouble in the _House_.

"Yes, Master," Ingolf replied. "Runa had a new client these past two days and he's scheduled again today. She complained that he's rough and she needs time to recover or she'll be no good for a sennight."

"Uppity Beta bitch," Laufey murmured, but he seemed to genuinely consider the complaint. Finally, he said, "very well, have Hertha switch around a couple of clients so Runa may have an easy day of it. But tomorrow she'll take her own schedule and deal with it. She's new but she'll learn." He seemed to think a second or two then added, "maybe Hertha can switch the other new girl, Sunniva, with her for today."

Ingolf nodded, slipped past Laufey, and placed Loki's breakfast tray on the table, then he left without a word, closing the door but not locking it since Laufey would have the key.

"Hello, Father," Loki said. He wondered why his father would visit him two days in a row and worried about what that new guard Hogun might have said after all. However, it did give him a chance to gauge the man's mood and see if he could broach the subject of his contract. Gesturing gracefully to the now replaced chair, Loki sank into its mate. He reached for his tray and began to eat quietly, waiting for his father to explain his visit.

Laufey sat, a good sign as he never sat if he were in a hurry or a bad mood. He watched his son for a moment then asked, "and who cleaned the room, Loki?"

Loki lifted his head and glanced around, debating revealing the truth or covering for Hertha. It was possible, after all, that Laufey would be angry Loki did the chore himself. Finally, with a shrug, Loki answered, determining Hertha should be punished if anyone should, "I did, Father. I was sick of living like a farmhouse pig in mud and old food and filth." He reached for a toasted slice of thickly buttered bread but his father clamped a hand over his wrist, stopping him.

He lifted Loki's still red and stinging hand and said "I know you did. Hertha will explain to me why the slaves did not do their work themselves. Her reason better be sound or she will be scrubbing the kitchens, and I will promote someone who can reliably run my _House_ when I am called elsewhere." He let Loki's wrist go and frowned. "And next time tell your guards about the need. You are not a cleaning slave, Loki, you are an instructor of the highest order."

 _'A whore,'_ Loki mentally filled in but said nothing. Rather he watched his father stand and walk over to inspect the gilded mirror Loki had unexpectedly found stored behind the dais and blocked from view by pillows. Loki had hung it himself on old hooks that had apparently been put there for the purpose; he idly wondered why it had been taken down and forgotten to begin with. When Laufey smiled at the finely crafted object, Loki spoke up. "Father, about that . . ."

Laufey turned, smile slipping but watching his son attentively.

"When I realized the slaves had failed to fulfill their assigned duties as they are contracted to do, I wondered about my own contract of servitude. I have many questions, Father." He waited, watching the tall man for his minutest reaction.

Finally, Laufey nodded and turned back to the mirror, adjusting it slightly on the wall hangers. "Yes, Loki. What did you wish to know?"

He took a breath. His father seemed composed and not averse to discussing this, so Loki went ahead, carefully wording his questions to give the least amount of information away. "Well, first I wondered if my contract has me specifically listed as an instructor or if there was more to it. I know these things are filed with the magistrate and did not want one showing up and demanding I fulfill some duty I cannot because of my . . . illness." Loki reached for his toasted bread again, trying to appear as if the conversation was just one of the normal ones he used to have with his father regularly before he had turned fourteen and begun to learn the trade.

With a nod, Laufey said, "you are contracted as a prostitute required to do as your master, me, sees fit. No specific duties are mentioned, so you would not be expected to provide specific duties if we are audited. If I so choose, I can have your client chain you to a wall, rape you until you bleed, and feed you excrement, and the authorities could do nothing about it. All of my slave contracts are worded thus."

Loki put the unfinished bread back down and pushed away his tray, nauseated at the disgusting turn of the conversation. Trying to get the discussion back under control, he asked, "and how long is my sentence? Or how much is my bond? I was curious how much I am worth in the eyes of the law."

A bark of laughter escaped his Father, drawing Loki's surprised green eyes. Laufey stood smoothing his clothing with both hands, actually preening in the mirror. "Vain thing," he said with a tone close to pleasure. "Yes, I was beautiful once, too, before my _'accident'_ . . . before I lost my hair and my body was mangled . . . before I looked like this." Laufey turned, gesturing to himself. He looked over his son and sighed. "Your cost is high, Loki, as it should be. The only reason I have you listed as a slave is so that no one may take you from me. It was the only way to hide my son without telling others of our relationship."

"And why must we hide our relationship, Father?" Loki ventured, momentarily distracted.

Then it happened. Laufey's unpredictable temper flared and he slammed his fist sideways, shattering the mirror but never taking his cold red-brown eyes from his son. "Enough of your questions, you ungrateful boy! I'll hear no more! Do you want to know why you serve in _The House of Laufey_ as an enslaved Gamma with no background or family?" Striding quickly, long legs eating up the distance in four great strides, Laufey was at his son's side in a heartbeat. He gripped the back of Loki's chair and the edge of the table, blocking the younger man in and leaning over to crowd him, something akin to hatred burning in his angry eyes. "You, my dear arrogant little cow, are my insurance. Should my enemy ever find me, and I have no doubt he will, I can use you as a shield to protect me. I will stop your medicine and drive you to heat. I will humiliate my greatest enemy by luring him to mate with you and he will fall under your virgin Omega's spell. Then when he is at his weakest and you are moaning and rutting beneath him like the slut you are, I will kill him and you with him, thus ridding the realms of the curse of the man who did this to me!"

Insanity lingered in the depths of Laufey's eyes, and Loki was more afraid than any other time of his life, even when he'd been attacked by Geirrod.

Slowly, carefully, not moving an inch, Loki asked, "Father, what did he do to you?" He dared not ask who this perceived enemy was in fear that naming him would drive Laufey over the edge completely.

Laufey curled his lip in disgust and straightened, letting go of the furniture but not moving away from his son. Rather, he quickly pulled his long tunic open and pulled the laces from his trousers. Loki wondered in near blind panic if his father was so far gone that he planned to rape him, but that wasn't what the man was up to. Rather, he stepped back and held out his hands, displaying his body to his son. Loki remained fixated on Laufey's eyes.

"Look at me, damn you! You asked now look!" the man ordered in an imperious voice.

Loki dropped his eyes to study his father's body. And he saw what mutilation Laufey had referred to. He had a deep jagged scar across his abdomen, long healed but thick with lack of proper care. His belly drooped a bit and his abdominal muscles appeared to have been ripped out or at least destroyed beneath the skin, allowing the skin to sag despite no fat aiding in its weight. But worse, where Laufey's penis should have been was a scar-circled hole, where his urethra would have attached to. A scar covered below the hole, marking where his testicles had formerly hung. Laufey's entire manhood had been removed. Sick with the sight, and the idea that someone would do this to another, Loki turned his head away, feeling the tears begin to wash his eyes.

A strong hand gripped his face and turned him back to face the disfigured body. "And so, my son of the soft heart and beautiful body, you see what has been done. The man who did this to me also gave me one more thing."

Afraid to ask but knowing it was expected, Loki concentrated on the belly wound rather than the sickening sight below it. "What?" he whispered.

A deep, awful laugh tore from Laufey and he finally stepped back, doing up the bottom laces of his trousers with nimble fingers. "Why, he gave me _you_ of course."

Confusion drew Loki's eyes up in shock. He tried to think through the claim and asked one final question. "You aren't my father?"

Laughing, Laufey shook his bald head and turned to the door, letting his half tied laces go and leaving his tunic gaping open. He reached for the door, still laughing, and opened it to the sight of Ingolf and Hogun just coming down the hall, guiding the couple assigned Loki that morning. Laufey grinned wide and waved a hand. "Sorry, you'll be going to someone else this morning. This one's . . ." he turned a lustful leer on Loki, making the prostitute's stomach turn, "too exhausted from recent exertions."

As Hogun turned away with the pair, leading them down to the other end of the hall, Ingolf stood there as if unsure what to do. His hands had clenched into fists, which he pressed into his thighs, and he stared impassively beyond the half dressed master of the _House_ to the seated, flushed and teary eyed Loki sitting beyond. Laufey merely laughed again and looked back to the man he'd raised in captivity. "And could I be . . . like this?" he asked with a flick of his hand, not clarifying the question for Loki but not needing to. He then turned and left, tossing the key to Ingolf. "Make sure he's clean and tend his hurts. I want him pristine for tonight.

Once Laufey strode down the steps, Ingolf walked into the room and locked himself in with Loki.

Loki knew how it looked but so much had happened, he didn't know what to say. He couldn't stop the tears of confusion and humiliation. He wasn't sure what to believe or even what to do about it. And it was certain his freedom could never be bought with a handful of gems. Not if Laufey had such vindictive plans for him and the mysterious man who'd hurt the brothel keeper so terribly. Given Loki to Laufey? Did that mean Laufey had stolen him from the other man? Or bought him? Or had it been a deal gone wrong?

It took a long moment before Ingolf turned and stepped over to Loki, interrupting his miserable thoughts. "Lad? Let me tend you," he said, his voice vibrating with anger and disgust. But apparently it wasn't the prostitute that turned the guard's stomach as he picked up Loki's napkin, gently cupped his chin, and began to wipe away his tears. "So, he has finally done it, has he? Breached the trust of a parent and child to use his own son?" The suggestive way Laufey had acted would give anyone that idea.

Worse still, Loki knew Laufey had done it on purpose. He'd been displaying to the guards and the pair of rich customers that he had full rights to take any slave in the _House_ and had assumedly spent the morning taking this one. True or not, the story would spread. But Loki didn't want Ingolf to think such a thing. Even though it would have been against his own wishes, out of his control or desire, Loki still felt dirty even suggesting the idea of bedding his father . . . even though Laufey claimed not to be so. The confusion welled up again and Loki broke into fresh tears. He wrapped his arms around himself and knew he must be truly miserable, even more so than the day before, as his chest ached: not just inside around his heart, but outside too, as if his heart made his entire breastbone ache in sympathetic misery. He felt tender and easily bruised and his nether regions began to ache as if his father had truly rutted him. Loki buried his face in his hands and broke into body-wracking sobs.

Ingolf tossed the napkin on the table and picked up the younger man, once more with one arm under his knees and the other strongly supporting his back. He carried Loki into the bathing room and sat him down on the shower bench. Rather than turning on the water though, Ingolf turned to the relaxing tub and pulled the cover from it. He turned the taps high, letting the marble pool fill with warm, scented water. Then he stripped to his small cloths. Once nearly undressed, he walked into the shower and slid Loki's robe from him, scooped him up, and carried him to the tub. He didn't lay Loki down inside but climbed in and settled with the younger man on his lap. Then he began to stroke a fresh washing cloth over the shaking shoulders, dipping it into the water to moisten it and caressing soothingly over pale skin. He let Loki cry as he tended him like a child.

Long minutes passed and finally Loki's tears diminished and his sobs faded. He leaned limply against Ingolf's strong, ginger-furred chest. Whispering, he asked "Ingolf, why do the Norns torment me so? I do not know what I have done to deserve this."

The man dipped the cloth again and carefully bathed Loki's face, making sure not to injure further the bruised cheek. He spoke just as softly. "You did nothing, lad, nothing at all." After a long moment, as if to distract Loki in some small way, Ingolf said "I remember you when you were but knee high. You were five when Laufey built this place, and you were into mischief enough for three boys. I was hired to mind you then, though I was but fifteen myself." He had Loki's attention, for the brunet did not recall those early years as more than brief images much like dreams. Ingolf went on. "Once the _House_ was done, Laufey made me front room guard, and I made sure the customers that started coming were of the kind Laufey wanted: rich and discreet. But you were still underfoot and not an appropriate sight in such a place. You were maybe seven when one man asked how much extra to rut with you . . . and the _House_ steward actually considered the idea!" Disgust rose in Ingolf's voice. "He even went to ask Laufey what to charge so the man could sex a child. Laufey had the steward killed on the spot and banned you to the kitchens. You lived on the guard level then, in my care once more, though you probably don't recall. Years of that medication would wipe such long ago memories from your mind."

"I don't remember much, you are correct." Loki pushed Ingolf's hand from his face and studied him, frowning, trying hard to place the stocky redhead in his past as more than just a passing face, but he couldn't.

Enduring the scrutiny, Ingolf continued. "Living with the guards, running free in the kitchens, you had other children to play with. They were the children of the hired staff and the few debt slaves Laufey purchased in those early days. But then you were found kissing a pretty lass in the back storeroom. You were both maybe nine and only doing what children do when discovering their world, but Laufey grew angry beyond all proportion. He moved you to this floor here, out of my care, and locked you in. He started you on the medicine and told everyone you had horrible seizures, a curse from the Gods, and were to be left alone. He said he owned your slavery and no one was to come near you. And then I didn't see you again until you were seventeen or so and I had earned my way back into Laufey's good opinion. That was when he allowed me to become one of your guards."

"I don't recall," Loki said, feeling sad to have forgotten so much of this kind man. "Did the medicine really do this to my memory?" He had thought the vague memories of jealous teens had been real, but with careful thought he realized it had been Laufey who had told him of those phantom events.

"Aye, lad, it did. I have heard it can be so with seizures but more so with inhibitor started too soon. And if he started you on the medicine when you were nine, it was far too soon." Ingolf dipped the cloth again and began to gently wash Loki's chest.

The ache of the sensitive flesh caused Loki to wince but he let the man tend him. He sighed and leaned against the strong chest. "He hates me, Ingolf. It isn't for a stupid kiss long forgotten either. He hates me for a deeper, older reason."

Ingolf hesitated then sighed and asked "and what reason would that be, little Lopt?"

Loki's eyes widened as the name brought on a rush of memories, most involving a gawky, lanky teen with hair the color of fire and a rich laugh. The boy had always called him Lopt as a pet name and it had stuck; all the staff had called him such. Laufey was the only one to call him Loki, and only in privacy, the brunet realized. _'Is Loki even my real name?'_ he wondered. He turned wondering ice green eyes to the man who had cared for him so long. "I do remember you, Goth!" It had been his return pet name for the older boy. He liked the feel of the now remembered pet name.

A smile crooked Ingolf's mouth and he nodded. "Aye, I hope goodly." Then he sighed, smile dropping, and stood, putting Loki on his feet. "Turn, lad, so I can finish cleaning you."

A flush crept up Loki's cheeks but he obeyed. How to explain he was still untouched . . . or even the hateful things Laufey had said? Before he could sort through his confusion, he hissed in surprise as the cloth ran between his thighs and over his ass, causing a shot of fiery need to go right to his cock. "No!" Loki pulled away, splashing to the far end of the tub. "Don't touch me!" he screamed in panic, sinking into the warm water to ineffectually hide his forming erection. "Not you, Goth, never you . . ." he wailed.

Surprisingly Ingolf merely climbed out of the tub and offered the cloth to Loki. "Aye, Lopt, never would I do such to you even had you asked me. I can tell Laufey did not penetrate you, though, so that is one less crime he will answer for." He waited until Loki took the cloth before he walked over to the towels and grabbed one, wrapping it over his waist then gathering his discarded uniform.

When he turned, he said softly, "the man plays an evil game and perhaps wishes you to seduce me so I might be gotten rid of. I think he suspects I care for you as if you were _my_ son rather than his."

Loki turned to look at Ingolf suddenly, shocked, but not upset by the thought. He offered a wavery smile and nodded slowly, relishing the fantasy that this strong, gentle man could have been his father. But he knew it was false even as he dreamed it. So, in order to give Ingolf the comfort he seemed to need, Loki said, "He told me he is not my father after all. He lied all these years, though I have no idea why since I am his slave . . ." Sudden understanding came to him and he paled. "Am I a slave, Goth?"

Ingolf looked puzzled, putting his uniform on the sink and reaching below his towel to unfasten his small cloths and let them fall to the ground in a wet plop. "What mean you, Lopt?" The guard then began to slide into his trousers without the protection of the under garment, an uncomfortable idea at best with the scratchy flax.

Loki stepped out of the water and grabbed his satin robe from the shower bench, slipping it on and belting it. He didn't care if he ruined this garment, too; let the bastard buy him more. It was the least Laufey could do. "He said he was keeping me so that he could use me to entice his enemy, a man who unmanned him literally. He planned for this man to take me in my first heat and he would kill us both as we rutted." Loki walked over and picked up the uniform tunic, offering it to Ingolf. "And then he told me that he wasn't my father, but that his enemy had given me to him. So I ask, am I a slave? Did this man sell me? Was he my father? Or was I stolen?"

And those words seemed to strike something deep and terrifying inside Ingolf, for the guard stepped back into the wall and stared at Loki for the first time in something akin to horror. "Stolen?" he whispered then groaned. "Lopt, I need to remove you from here! Today!" Ingolf pulled off his towel then fumbled at his laces, trying to do them up in haste. "The temple . . . I must get you to the temple."

"No," Loki grabbed Ingolf's arm, preventing him from finishing with his trousers. True fear now wracked the prostitute. "They'll kill me for an Omega, Goth! If ever you loved me, you would not do that to me!"

"Kill you? Why would . . ." but Ingolf stopped what he was about to say, frowning at the slightly taller though younger man. He muttered as if to himself, "of course, Laufey would have told you such." He nodded. "Fine then. That royal guard, Fandral, has visited daily since last month. He sees the Beta, Kari, in the rich man's wing. I can talk to him when he brings his slave to mate with Sunniva."

"Royal guard?" Loki let go Ingolf, who hurriedly worked on his laces once more. "And the medicine Laufey bought. Can we bring that? I do not want the guard to find out my nature. No one can know. Promise me," Loki begged.

Ingolf nodded in return, and Loki sighed in relief.

"Lopt, listen to me. I will need to leave this morning to arrange things. Hogun will remain on duty. If I am not back before luncheon, tell Hogun that you still suffer from your mating with Laufey, that he was extra energetic with you." When Loki opened his mouth to protest telling Hogun anything, Ingolf shook his head. "Nay, lad, I trust the man. He'll make sure you are protected. You'll only see your gladiator and no one else. I'll have you out of here by eve, I swear, little Lopt." Then Ingolf did something that took Loki's voice away. He cupped the back of Loki's head, pulled his face over, and kissed his forehead. Letting the brunet go, the redhead strode quickly out of the suite and locked him in once more.

Tears welled again in Loki's eyes and he wondered at the amount of crying a body could do in two days. With a shudder, wrapping his arms around himself, he felt the pooling liquid between his thighs, a result of the gentle rubbing Ingolf had done to start to wash him. But Loki never wanted to feel that way about his protector, Goth, and so he strode to the shower and began to run the cold water, as e had done when giving Thor the blowjob the day before. Before stepping under, still robed, Loki stopped and thought. If he would leave tonight, why not give himself the pleasure of once being in his love's embrace? Thor would come this noon and Laufey would be tending business, as he often did mid-week, in the town. Loki would have this one chance to lie with Thor before Ingolf took him to the guard and he was sent into hiding with his medicine and his precious hidden store of trinkets; Loki would not leave them behind as he'd need the funds to buy more inhibitor.

What of Thor's stitches? It was only the third day of his healing. True, Aesir healed rather quickly, so there was a chance they would be unharmed. Then Loki smiled wickedly. Who better to know how to sex someone injured without further harming him? Wasn't he the greatest sexual instructor in the place? A laugh escaped from the prostitute and he shut the water off, suddenly pleased with his career once more. Yes, he could find a way to have sex with Thor and do so without alerting anyone. Then, he would take the inhibitor brought to him at lunch and knock out any sign of heat that might build from such activity. And later, Ingolf would help him escape this insane prison and it's vindictive jailer. He would, of course, miss Thor terribly, but the visits would have stopped by the time Thor was able to be sexed by someone else anyway. After all, the gladiator's master wanted him sexed once for future sale, not continually for pleasure. Once he was in safety and under control, Loki could write to the stable and offer to purchase Donar the gladiator for himself. And they would once more be together.

With a relieved sigh for his hurried half-formed plans, Loki strode into his sleep room and threw open the armoire and curio cabinet, including the drawers. He tugged off the cloying wet satin that restricted his movements, preferring to work in the nude. He pulled out a sturdy winter robe with long sleeves and thick lining. Laying the material open on the bed, he began to carefully put each trinket, gem, and jewel on top of it, followed by the jewelry in their stiffly formed velvet cases. He worked neatly but quickly to empty all his treasures from the stand, and still it took some hours. Finally, he turned back to the supply of robes and grabbed two sturdy summer robes to fold on top of the treasures. Then he tied the entire bundle together, his eyes widening as he tried to lift the extremely heavy bundle. Of course, with all the gold and solid gems, it was a hefty weight. Ingolf would need to help him move it. Well, that left the bed out for sexing Thor, but he could manage. The chairs in the living area were comfortable and built large due to Laufey's great size. One or two pillows had escaped yesterday's disaster, as well, so he could use them to soften things even more.

Uncaring that the entire morning had been taken with his preparations, Loki strode back into the living area and stopped short, sighing. All that glass from the shattered mirror would need to be moved so they didn't get injured. Loki began to carefully pick up the large shards, marveling how there seemed to be no tiny slivers. Truly a wondrous design of glass to have shattered so. Finally, he straightened and reached to pull one of the few remaining warped pieces from the gilded frame, hearing the door open behind him.

Arvind's voice said, "in here, master gladiator." Then the guard closed and locked the door.

Without turning, letting Thor look at his ass, Loki continued to work loose the shard of silvered glass, glimpsing a warped image of the blond man behind him. In the destroyed mirror, Thor did not seem quite as large or vibrant, but Loki cared nothing about the reflection. "Let me just finish this one piece and I will be with you."

Behind him, movement signaled Thor was coming closer, removing his loincloth.

Loki laughed softly. "Eager for our next lesson?"

He felt the strong hand run over his ass and shuddered with a soft moan, not pulling away this time. Rather he let his eyes close and he leaned his forehead against the large section of warped glass. A finger dipped into his passage, finding more than enough slick, and the gladiator seemed pleased . . . he rumbled. Loki moaned at the feel, a new sensation to him but a pleasurable one. "That's right . . . right there . . ."

Suddenly, the gladiator grabbed his shoulder and the feel of something large and velvety hard pushed against his opening. Loki opened his eyes in shock as the man behind him thrust hard, ripping into him without preparation, and embedding himself fully in the hot, slick, tight passage. Loki screamed in pain and confusion, trying to turn and pull away. As he struggled, he caught a better image of the gladiator in the mirror . . . it wasn't Thor!

"No!" Loki screamed and the man pulled out and slammed back in, hard, grunting. Loki tried to twist out of his grip, but the unknown man slammed him hard against the mirror, sending stars shooting through his vision and blood pouring from a fresh cut above his eyes.

"Go ahead, whore, scream. I like it!" He thrust again, pounding hard, holding Loki prisoner against the jagged mirror, uncaring that cuts ripped across Loki's delicate flesh. "Who'd have thought big bad Beta Donar was _ergi_ , huh? Well, this'll teach him! I heard him call your name in the shower while he tugged himself. Loki, isn't it? Well, scream and beg for me, Loki. Tell me to fuck you harder! I'll spoil you for anyone else, especially that _ergi_ , Donar!"

Loki sobbed and bit his lip to deny the scream, but the painful pounding was too much. He whimpered then more horror rose as he realized his body was lubricating and his cock was rising. _'No! How can I respond to this?'_ Loki thought desperately. It was a painful invasion of the most debase kind, but his body was tight and needy and he wanted something more. It was then that Loki realized he must have started his first heat. "No!" he screamed for all he was worth. "Ingolf! Help me, I beg you! Hogun!"

The searing pain and deep pounding continued as the man raping him grunted hateful, dirty things in his ear . . . and Loki wailed to find he almost enjoyed it. "Please," he whispered, clutching at the frame and pressing his face into the broken glass. "Please don't . . . ah . . . don't . . . oh . . . Gods, don't stop!" Loki felt utter humiliation as he found himself begging for the abuse from this total stranger.

And the door slammed open behind them as Loki moaned.


	8. Change of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still Dark, but now Thor's turn . . .

It wasn't until Thor got to his sleep cell that he realized he'd left his loincloth in the bath house and had walked back to the barracks in a towel. Flushing in embarrassment, Thor sighed. _'And Loki would call me idiot for this,'_ he thought then smiled. Most would despise such a belittling title, but somehow when Loki said it, the word sounded more like exasperated tenderness. Thor chuckled and walked to his bed, draping the damp towel over the edge of the wooden bedstand. He'd swap it back later.

Lying down on the thickly packed mattress of burlap wrapped straw, Thor slid his good left arm behind his head and smiled. In the last two days he'd made a new friend on a mission for the royal family and had met someone he felt he could fall in love with. The thought made Thor freeze, his blue eyes widening. _'In love?'_ That wasn't good. Man or not, Gamma or not, Loki was not free to love anyone.

Thor frowned. _'And is it really love . . . or just lust? Heimdall seems to think I'm just coming to maturity.'_ Once sexed, would the deep interest in the prostitute remain? Or would he simply toss Loki aside once he'd had him, like any other brothel customer? A feeling of despair began to twist Thor's gut and he pushed to a seated position on the bed. _'And what about his seizures? Even if he wants to, he can't have sex without risking that curse.'_

Mind awhirl, Thor rose from his bunk and began to pace the small, one man cell. His thigh twinged but Thor ignored the pain as a minor inconvenience - - he had bigger concerns: namely, how was he to help Loki convince the Gods to rescind their curse? He'd never actually tried to commune with the Gods, or even the Norns, before.

A sound outside his sleep cell drew his attention to the flap of canvas covering the doorway. Frowning, he watched as a dark hand slipped in holding a piece of light canvas. The hand dangled and flapped the material as if it hung on a line in a stiff breeze. Thor opened his mouth the challenge the stranger when he snapped his lips closed and snorted. The hand no doubt belonged to Heimdall as the cloth he waved was Thor's loincloth. "Thank you, my friend," he called and Heimdall dropped the cloth, retracting his hand but never opening the canvas curtain.

"Good noon, Donar," he murmured on the other side and moved off on quiet, sandaled feet.

A full chuckle burst from Thor as he rose to retrieve his loincloth and place it on the bedstead next to the drying towel. Sudden inspiration hit the tall blond and he slowly smiled in wonder. Perhaps Heimdall knew how to get rid of a seizure curse; the man had such knowledge as to be akin to one of the gods himself. Sliding back onto the stiff, lumpy mattress, Thor allowed himself to hope, closing his eyes and drifting into an afternoon nap.

The voice of Sigurd woke Thor and he could see by the angle of light that the sun had begun to set. "Donar, are you well?" His owner pushed back the door cover and strode into the small sleep cell. "Whew! It is hot in here. Leave the flap open, Donar, or you'll pass out."

As the idea had been to fall into an unconscious state, Thor felt amused by Sigurd's worry but sat up and agreed to obey.

He moved to put his arm over his chest, but Sigurd shook his head. "Stop it, Donar. No one's looking. They've all gone in to sup." The older man walked in and and studied Thor's naked form, frowning. As he had the right and ownership of Thor in his entirety, the gladiator uncomfortably allowed the inspection, though he found only embarrassment in the act. Finally, the man nodded and looked at Thor's set face. "You've missed luncheon and now supper. Are you well, Donar?"

 _'Is that what has him worried?'_ Thor shook his head. "I am well, my master. I was sleeping and not aware I missed meals."

Sigurd nodded but didn't leave. Rather he looked around at the small cell containing only the large bed. Truly Thor owned nothing more and only used the cell for rest, so there had been no need for a larger personal space. If he had not done so well in the arena, he'd have still been in the bunkhouse with the slaves and junior gladiators.

When the man turned back to Thor, he frowned. "You were seven when I paid your father's debt, Donar."

Surprise turned to genuine interest. His master never brought up his debt. Thor wondered what had triggered this conversation and what it could mean. "Yes, my master. I recall that day." He actually only recalled seeing Sigurd for the first time and realizing he was to be left there. He'd cried in the bunkhouse for several days. He had cried so much, he'd been ill, but Sigurd had seemed to know how to distract a heartbroken lad. In three days, the man had taken Thor to a rack of weapons and told him to pick the one he wanted to learn. With a sudden hope in his young heart, hoping he'd impress this man and be allowed to go home to his mother, Thor had grabbed the heaviest looking weapon . . . a huge hammer sitting on the ground beside the rack.

The memory snapped as Donar sighed, drawing Thor back to the present. "Donar, your debt is paid if you win your next fight." He sounded miserable with the statement, bringing Thor's confused attention to the familiar, lined face.

"It is?" Thor asked, carefully. "I would be free?" An image of a previous freedom ceremony struck his mind: all the gladiators had been called together in the main arena where Sigurd had read the contract, signed it, made the gladiator sign it with his mark, then offered it to him with the handshake of an equal. Summer blue eyes shone and Thor's face broke into a smile as sunny as a cloudless day.

"Yes, Donar, free." Sigurd didn't look happy in the least, but Thor didn't have to wonder why; the man continued on. "I've been looking to find your father these last few months so I can tell him of your success."

Suddenly, Thor felt hope and drew in his breath with a sharp sucking noise. "My father?"

Sigurd looked at him and shook his head, actual tears welling in the man's eyes. He stood and, wringing his wrinkled hands, the older man looked towards the cell doorway. "Donar," Sigurd's voice came hesitantly, then he sighed and turned to stare him in the eyes. "Do you recall the name you came to me with?"

"Thor Odinson!" He answered promptly and Sigurd blanched, causing Thor's smile to slip. The older man looked as if he might have a heart seizure so, nude or not, Thor sprang from his bed and wrapped a supportive arm around the smaller man, guiding him to the bed. "Master?"

Sinking to the hard mattress, the man shook his head, staring at Thor as if chilled by Hel. "Why would you say that?" He asked, as if to himself as his voice faded to a horrified whisper. Shaking his head again, his voice came stronger as he said "No! Your contract is for the name Erik Larson."

Confusion crossed Thor's face. "But that is not my name, Master. I was born . . ."

"Shhh!" Sigurd glanced towards the doorway, both hands fluttering in desperation. "By the Gods, man, do you wish to draw the guard on us?" He rose again and tried to pace a step, but Thor forced him back on the bed; the man was far too shaky and pale.

"Master," he lowered his voice. "Tell me what you know. Tell me about my father."

Sigurd dropped his hands into his lap, giving the larger man a helpless look. "The man towered above anyone else, Donar. He was half a foot again over six, and would tower over you even. His eyes were brownish and very cold, and he was bald as a newborn babe. He kept tugging his clothing around him as if cold or trying to hide, but he had a legitimate debt document in hand. It claimed he needed thousands to pay for his brother's care and burial. The name was so unusual on the document, so I recalled it. It was Farbauti, with no second name." Sigurd looked over at the very puzzled Thor. "Well, I knew that those born from the Omega Rites never had last names, so I knew the brother must be an Omega child."

"Omega Rites? Omega Child?" Thor sank next to Sigurd onto the mattress, his greater bulk shrinking the area considerably. "What does this mean? The man who sold me had a brother who was an Omega?"

"No, of course not," Sigurd waved a hand, nearly slamming Thor in the nose and causing the younger man to lean back. "No, when there's war or famine or plague and many people die, especially the children, the Omega Rites begin. It's a complicated thing and has only happened twice in my living memory. You see, before King Odin took the throne, Omegas were killed by the dozen. Afterwards, they were taken by the temple and held until their children were needed. Then an Omega Rites is called and the children born are given one name only, claimed to be children of Asgard rather than of a single couple, and are given a privileged childhood in gratitude for their being born, I think." He looked at Thor. "Which makes little sense to me, as it isn't the children that should be thanked is it? The parents birthed them and did all the hard work. Birthing's bloody and dangerous and women die from it."

Opening his mouth to ask further, Thor stopped as his master continued.

"Well, this Farbauti was listed in such a way, and he was far too young to be from the last Omega Rites… those had been only five years before. So, I knew he must have been from the ones five hundred years hence." Sigurd shook his head. "And that confused me, because as part of their gifts, all Omega Children are granted full funerary rights unless they be treasonous, which your father assured me was not the case."

Thor softly asked, "And this document? This large man? What was the name of my father?" The name Farbauti, and that of Erik Larson, was unfamiliar. Thor knew his own name, had known it seven years while he played with his brothers in long halls filled with armed men. Delighted at the unusual memory that had been so long hidden Thor none-the-less ignored it in favor of finding what his debt owner knew.

"Well, the document did not bear your father's name, but he said it was Lars Anderson and showed me another document that proved his age to be born around the time our Allfather took the throne and brought peace to our lands." He looked at Thor's troubled face. "When you first came to me, you had been weeping and not eating, it was quite obvious you were sick with grief. You barely spoke and never looked a man in the eye, hiding your head in your father's hip. Lars said Farbauti had gotten ill in his mind and rambled lies and heartache over his last years, and so you might believe anything from playing with goats that flew to talking with gods and giants. I was unbothered by such imagination, almost all children believe such play. He said his brother's mind had unhinged, and he had gotten worse over the last years, and that finally he had killed himself. I felt bad for Lars; a suicide is not easily dealt with. But the cost for the priests and healers had been carefully listed on this document, which came from the magistrate. The body had been withheld funeral rites unless the debts were paid and more above for the proper funeral rites, as well. Horrified, I agreed to buy your debt to give your father's brother his peace."

"But, master, I know not this Lars Anderson. And the name Farbauti is foreign to me as well," Thor said softly.

The stable owner rose; Thor allowed it since the man seemed more in control. Sigurd turned and studied Thor once more. "When the man had left with his funds, I told you that all gladiators had a fighting name. I told you I would call you Donar. Then I asked you if you knew your name, but you only ever answered Donar, never your birth name. I thought perhaps you were angry at your father's choice and let it go."

Thor did not recall this so merely shrugged, letting the man continue if he would, the questions building, but respect and curiosity winning for the moment.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, the man sank next to Thor and leaned closer. His voice pitched low, he said, "but you say your name is . . . different. Tell me, what do you recall, Donar? This may very well be my life."

Confused, Thor looked at Sigurd and kept his voice equally low. "My name is Thor Odinson and I lived in a large building filled with people, smiling people. Many were guards who laughed when my brothers and I ran the halls. There was a very fat baker who scolded us when we stole treats, but she always gave my older brother whatever he asked." Thor's eyes widened, stunned at the memory of the big, red haired woman with many children underfoot, some clinging to her skirts. "Volsta was her name, master. She had a big belly that shook when she laughed. And Baldur could always make her laugh."

"Baldur?" Sigurd's voice dropped to a horrified whisper and he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. His body began to shake and Thor became worried when he heard the older man sob.

"Master?" He lightly touched Sigurd's shoulder, but the man pulled from him and shook his head.

"Nay. I must find the truth. What you speak is treason, Donar. Please, do not tell this to anyone until I can find if it is truth or a lie fed to you by a mentally distorted man dying in a back room."

"You think I speak falsely?" Thor asked, frowning.

"No," Sigurd shook his head, tears streaming down his lined face, and the man looked far older than he had in the morning. "No, I think you believe your tale, Donar, but if you speak true my life is forfeit. Here is what we will do. I will go with you and Tyr and Rig to this brothel and we will take my partner, Bjorn, with us. While he remains at the _House_ with you, I will go to the magistrate with your document and find if it is false. They have ways to tell if something is falsely written." With a groan, he shook his head. "I have always had the forms checked before purchase, but Lars seemed so distraught and you seem so grief-stricken I did not question the tale or the parchment." He looked at Thor and shuddered. "What have I done?"

Thor met his gaze steadily. "What do you think you have done, Master?"

With a shake of his head, Sigurd pushed to shaky feet. "No, I cannot say. I will know by tomorrow afternoon what has happened and can tell you true at that time. Once your appointment is finished, Bjorn will bring you back here with orders to carry on as normal. I will walk back after my case is heard, which may take hours. I should be back by eve at the latest and we will talk then, Donar. Tell no one of this conversation, I beg. Do not even speak it when you are being sexed tomorrow or you might endanger us both."

Not understanding, Thor merely nodded. He didn't see how telling Loki about such confusion could help, so he would hold his tongue until the eve and his meeting with Sigurd. "Yes, master. I will do as you say."

"Good," Sigurd sighed and rubbed his hands down his trousers as if to sooth himself. "Well, dress and go find food, Donar. I will speak with your again tomorrow eve." With that, his master walked shakily from the sleep cell, as if he had aged a thousand years in the few minutes they'd talked.

Thor stood and pulled on the loincloth, frowning and wondering _'so just who am I, really?'_

It was an answer he could not find during his evening meal and it kept him restless through the night. When he hit his injured arm in his tossing, Thor climbed from bed and walked out into the cool night breeze. His mind whirled with confusion and memories and fantasies tangled together into one big colorful mess. Surprisingly, he noticed a tint of orange in the darkened sky.

It was dawn.

Relief that the hours were passing soon turned to agony as time seemed to slow to a crawl over the morning. He distracted himself by allowing the trainee to begin swinging the heavy hammer halfway through the morn, but the task did not alleviate his own whirling thoughts. When Sigurd called a halt, Thor felt relief; he had felt near to screaming in his distress.

Turning, he watched as his master walked beside a larger, bulkier man with a perpetual frown and sun-squinted eyes. Bjorn did not handle the gladiators of the stable; he dealt with the slaves. He was a hard master and Thor had ever been grateful he'd been sold to fight and not put in Bjorn's care. The man found fault with one of his slaves seemingly every other day and even the gladiators never failed to show him full respect.

As he bowed over his arm to the pair, Thor noted that Tyr, too, bowed.

"Gladiators," Bjorn called, surprising the lot. "You are to clean yourselves and have your muscles seen to while we are gone. After we return, we will gather, for I have heard troubling things about some of the slaves here." As he glared at the fighters, it became readily obvious that some of the gladiators were included in the coming punishments Bjorn promised.

Thor thanked the Norns that he'd striven to follow all rules and protocol. Public punishment from Bjorn often included humiliating the wrong doer or even whippings.

The group of five, Fandral had not arrived to Thor's mild surprise, made their way into a strongly built horse-drawn farm cart. It was normally only used when bringing gladiators to the out-lying arenas, a sign they were being promoted to better things. Today, it was being used to transport the small group to the brothel. Even Tyr seemed not to take this consideration for more than a convenience and wisely kept his head bowed respectfully, as did Rig and Thor. No one dared act above their station when Bjorn made an appearance.

Sigurd left the group on foot once in the center of town, and the cart continued to the beautiful four-story mansion overlooking the sea. When it came to a stop, Bjorn stepped out first and studied the structure with an unreadable expression. Finally, he turned and nodded for the others to get out. Thor was last in line; though his wounds ached less this day they still caused him pain as he moved. The party of four walked into the brothel and down the corridor, stopping in front of the desk, the three gladiators lined up behind Bjorn.

The woman at the desk, the same Beta from the previous two visits, looked as if she did not feel well. She smiled, but there was misery and anger in her eyes. Thor idly wondered if Geirrod had returned, but the thought fled when Bjorn greeted the woman by name.

"Hertha. We have appointments for three." His voice sounded detached, almost bored, and he patiently waited as she checked her ledger and made marks on the neatly written lines.

"Yes, Master Bjorn," she said. No welcome or greeting accompanied the words normally offered to the royal guard Fandral when they had arrived in his care. "Rig is to go to Runa this morning, per my master's wishes."

Both Tyr and Rig looked surprised, but neither appeared willing to argue in front of Bjorn. Thor had no idea why the men had reacted so, until two Gamma slaves came forward to lead Rig down the hall Tyr normally traversed. Confused, Thor wondered why Rig had been given Tyr's prostitute, for that must be what had happened.

Hertha was not finished with her surprises, though. Holding her finger on the lines, she looked up. "Donar is to go to Sunniva, Master Bjorn, and Tyr to Lopt."

Relief flooded Thor. At first, when he heard he'd been given Rig's companion, he had feared Tyr had been assigned Loki. The gladiator would have been enraged to find himself with a Gamma and a male, and fear for Loki's safety had flitted across Thor's being during the second before she'd revealed the arrogant Tyr had been assigned some unknown woman named Lopt. Obediently, Thor allowed the two guards, neither he was familiar with, lead them upstairs. Bjorn did not take advantage of the rich man's lounge, as he stayed below, settling onto a comfortable couch and pulling out a roll of parchment to study as he waited.

On the third floor, one of the guards gestured down the hall. "Go ahead."

Thor shook his head. "I do not know which room, sir. I have never been to this floor before."

The guard turned annoyed eyes on Thor and sighed. "Arvind, bring the other one up. I'll take care of this one."

"Yes, Gunne," Arvind said.

With that, the guard named Gunne pushed Thor lightly on the back. "This way, gladiator. Sunniva's been here only a month, but she's popular. She's been booked solid all month . . . the same men over and over." The guard rolled his eyes as if he couldn't understand how the same few people would wish to come back daily to pay for sex with the same woman, when there was an entire whorehouse to sample.

They arrived to a room at the end, and Thor noted they were at the opposite end of the vast building from where Loki resided on the floor above. The guard raised his hand and knocked once on the door then folded his hands together behind his back and bounced on his feet a couple of times. From behind the door came the sound of a strong voice, definitely feminine. "Yes, come in."

The guard smirked and shook his head, opened the door, and gave Thor a push. "Guess she wasn't told about the change Laufey made this morning." Into the room he called, "Surprise, Sunniva. Enjoy!" Then he shut the door behind them and walked away. He did not lock them in.

From the back of the room, behind a screen, the woman's voice came again. "Heimdall, I'll be right with you, though I haven't got much news. Laufey insists on playing least in sight and has yet to meet me for my arrival interview, despite my presence here the entire month. It must be costing the treasury a fortune to keep my appointments booked for the royal guard and you so I . . . who the hell are you?"

The woman had just stepped around the screen, still tying the last of the laces on the sleeve of her bodice. She was dressed in a flowing, nearly transparent, blue skirt and half top that left more to the imagination than the eye but somehow seemed all the more seductive. Her feet were bare and a silver anklet of tiny bells jingled as she walked. A matching bracelet graced her wrist and a similar bit of jewelry was fastened as a choker around her throat, tiny bells jingling. Her hair was pulled back in a single long ponytail, swishing in a golden waterfall down to her knees and making her lightly tanned skin appear to radiate health. But most fascinating were the woman's eyes. They seemed the color of light ale, a golden brown reminiscent of Rig's, though not quite as unusually colored.

Thor raised both hands in a gesture of calming. "My name is Donar, my lady." Somehow he knew this woman was not a prostitute in truth but was under cover like Rig, aiding in his search. "Hertha at the front desk said I was to come to you as Rig has been scheduled with Runa on the first floor." He paused and added, "Heimdall I should say. You might not know him as Rig."

"Damn," she murmured and glared at Thor, as if this were his fault. "And how come you call him by two names, Donar?" She asked crossing her arms over her chest.

"We are friends, my lady. I guessed that he was in search of someone and he confirmed he searched for someone . . . special." Thor did not know how much he should relate. After all, he did not want to breach Heimdall's trust if this woman knew little to nothing. "Are you his friend, as well, Sunniva?"

"Sunniva . . ." she studied him, her frown firmly in place. "Well, I can see you're no fool. Does the name Sif mean anything to you?"

He shook his head. "No, my lady. Is it your true name? Gladiators have second names, as well, to keep our slavery from our real lives."

Finally the woman sighed and gestured to the bed. "I hope you understand we won't be having sex, Donar. If you know as much as you seem to, you'll know I am not working here in that capacity. I'm helping Heimdall find someone."

Thor nodded and sank onto the floor, instead, respectfully allowing the woman the bed as a seat. There was no other seat in the room and there were no other doors. Apparently Loki's suite was unique. Thinking of the Gamma, Thor said, "I have been upstairs the last pair of days visiting with the son of the owner." He watched to see her reaction.

Golden-brown eyes widening, Sif sank onto the floor in front of Thor, putting them on equal footing. She asked pointedly, "And this son is named?"

Beaming his sunny smile, Thor said "Loki."

Sif murmured, "the Norns may be smiling at last."

Thor nodded, satisfaction welling. "So, this Laufey is someone important to your search? I felt as much when I told Heimdall this same information last noon."

She met his summer sky eyes and quirked a smile briefly. "Good, Heimdall needs to know all. And yes, Laufey is one of the people I search for. His health is important to the royal family and he disappeared some years ago. They wish to locate him." She paused, as if weighing her words, then added, "The Allfather has been searching for him for fifteen years in fear for his . . . health."

With a nod, Thor carefully placed a hand over his bandaged thigh then realized he hadn't changed the bandages since Loki had placed them there. And they were getting bedraggled and dirty. With a sigh, he now had one more concern. Without clean bandaging, his wounds could still fester.

The lady's eyes had followed his movement and she frowned again. Gracefully, without the use of her hands, Sif rose to her feet and strode behind the screen, her pace more that of a man than woman though her hips did sway a bit as she walked. When she came back, she sank to her knees and reached for his leg bandages.

Thor allowed her to tend him. "Lady Sif, is your father not troubled by your position here? Does he not fear for your virtue without protection?"

She let out a rather unladylike snort and shook her head, long golden hair caressing her hips and thighs. "I have no father, Donar. He died before my birth and my mother died before I reached ten years. I am a ward of the Allmother. And," she glanced up at him then back to what she did, "she knows I am here. She suggested it, in fact, when my brother told her he could use help looking where women talked with women, not men."

"Your brother?" Thor asked to keep her talking. He winced as the bandage came undone, revealing a clean wound, with tight stitching, but a small leak of bloody fluid from the seam.

"Heimdall, of course," she answered, carefully touching near his wound but not on it. "This was treated very well. The healer did a fine job, Donar."

With a small chuckle, Thor nodded. "Yes. Loki did this. I mean," he clarified, "he cleaned and stitched it. Tyr's the one who caused the wound during a bout in the arena." Pausing, he softly asked, "Sif, if I have a question about your search, will you answer me honest without causing problems?"

Confusion widened her eyes and she tilted her head, hair falling over her shoulder, revealing the blue lace tying it back. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I think I might know where one of your men are you seek, but I am not certain. The person holding him is afraid of being accused of treason, but truly he knew not until recently. And . . . I could be thinking things wrongly." Thor flushed. Did he really think he could be one of the missing princes? It seemed so arrogant, something Tyr would believe. But his own name, and Sigurd's reaction, had him wondering.

Sif stopped working on the leg and moved to the arm, leaving the wound unbandaged. "Why don't you tell me what you know and I will try not to judge your friend too harshly, Donar."

With no other way to say it, Thor merely said "Donar is the name I fight under. I was born Thor Odinson." As he said it, the implications became laughable and Thor flushed though he kept his eyes steadily on the woman.

She slowly lifted her head and studied him, at least not dismissing the words immediately. After a long moment, she said "and you think your master has committed treason for your enslavement." It was not a question.

Thor paled suddenly, now knowing why Sigurd had been panicking. He shook his head. "Not on purpose, Lady Sif. He bought me when I was seven, and the man who sold me claimed to be my father. Sigurd, my master, is even now with the magistrate trying to determine the legitimacy of his papers. He, too, fears I might be someone other than the Erik Larson his papers name me as."

Frowning again, that expression seemed to come easily to her, Sif left the arm wound unbound as well. She stood gracefully and paced back behind the screen then returned with a roll of parchment. "Tell me, Donar, if you can recognize these people. Let me know if you've seen them," she said.

As she unrolled her parchments, Thor realized that she had not dismissed his claim as foolishness or lies. She was probably testing him, but that bothered him not. He wasn't entirely sure of his own claims. Thor looked at the first parchment and saw it was a portrait of two small boys, perhaps ten and seven or so. They were almost identical: blond haired, blue eyes, broad smiling faces. Their arms were around each other's shoulders and the younger seemed to be laughing at something while the elder seemed to be ready to bounce off the page with energy.

Thor's eyes widened and he pointed at the older boy. "Baldur. That's my brother, Baldur. We used to make the guards laugh by sliding in the halls in our stockings. Volsta always gave him treats."

Without comment, Sif revealed the next page. It was a picture of a red-haired woman, trim and smiling, holding a small child of blackest hair and green-blue eyes on her lap. The child looked about four or five and could have been male or female, the features were so pretty. It had an equally laughing look on its delicate face, eyes full of mischief.

A smile surfaced for the happy pair in the portrait but he shook his head. "The woman is familiar, but not fat like Volsta. She seems so familiar to me. I think she might have worked in the nursery?" He studied the child, knowing it instantly for a boy despite the androgenous appearance. "The boy is familiar, too, but I do not know his name. He played with us. My little brother, I feel. Baldur and I just called him _Ast_." Thor looked up. "It is what everyone called him . . . _Love_."

Again she made no comment, no indication if he were correct or not. She merely flipped to the next page. Before Thor could look at it, her door burst open and Heimdall stood there. "Sif, keep him here and only release him to his masters!"

She rose and strode quickly to the dark-skinned man, her brother. "What has happened?"

He shook his head. "I cannot tell you more than this man may be someone we seek. Lopt, one of the prostitutes, was attacked and I go to aid the guards." With that, he turned and ran out.

Sif closed the door and turned, but she blinked apparently surprised as Heimdall's words had driven Thor to his feet. "What, Donar?"

Thor frowned. "Tyr was assigned this Lopt woman. He attacked her?"

"No," Sif corrected. "Lopt is a man."

"Ah," Thor understood completely. Tyr's bigotry would have angered him. He would have tried to beat up a male he was expected to have sex with. "Tyr would kill a man who tried to lie with him. I can help them." He moved towards the door, but she cut him off.

"No." She spread her arms, still standing in front of the entrance. "Heimdall said you are to stay, and you will. You can help our search by answering my questions . . . Thor," she said his name softly, as if afraid to put voice to it.

He sighed and nodded but he chafed at the restriction. He disliked people being hurt unjustly and longed to go to the prostitute's aid. He would want someone to show such kindness if it had been Loki attacked. Softly he growled, "and not long ago, one of the guards attacked Loki."

"Loki," Sif grasped at the name. "You said before that the Laufey who owns this place is father to Loki? Have you gotten to meet this Laufey? He has proved most elusive thus far."

Recalling that the royal family searched for their friend Laufey who was ill, Thor shook his head. "I have never met him, my lady. He keeps Loki locked into a lavish suite upstairs, but I do not know how often he visits his son." Thor paused. If Heimdall might have answers for him, might also the sister? Carefully he said, "Lady Sif, Loki suffers from seizures. It is the reason Laufey locks him away. I have seen the results of one of his attacks and the destruction was . . ."

The door opened, though not loudly, and behind Sif stood Bjorn, glowering at Thor. "I apologize, Sunniva was it not? But I must interrupt whatever this is." He gestured to the still clothed pair by the door. "It is time we departed."

Without word, Sif stepped out of the way and Thor bowed his head to her politely, as he would any of the prostitutes there. He knew better than to give her position away. Silently, he followed Sigurd's partner from the room, knowing that the visit had been cut short because Tyr must truly have beaten up the unfortunate Lopt. They made their way down the steps without speaking, Bjorn's hands clenched in controlled anger.

Once down the stairs, Thor saw that the two guards of earlier held Tyr tightly, his arms bound in stiff rope. Tyr sneered at Thor, as if he were the criminal, not Tyr, several red areas lifting on his tanned skin - - those would turn to livid bruises in the next few hours, Thor knew.

Heimdall was not there and Bjorn seemed not to expect him. Rather he told Hertha, "Tell Laufey to come to us so we may arrange to pay the damages to the property. And see a message is sent to Guard Fandral that he needs arrange other transport for his slave if he wishes him returned to the stable, as I have discipline to uphold and cannot wait for him to return from the healers." He bowed his head to the woman at the desk who seemed to be clenching her teeth in an effort to subdue her emotions . . . but the look in her eyes seemed to be pure malice.

Thor sighed and climbed into the cart in front of Tyr then Bjorn. They stood quietly as they traveled back to the stables, the wind stinging Thor's uncovered wounds. He winced but said nothing, intending to ask for fresh bandaging once Bjorn was done his public punishments. Tyr would probably suffer greatly without Sigurd to intervene; an unwarranted attack on someone else's slave would be an expense that Bjorn would not forgive lightly.

At the stable, the trio walked into the main arena directly, and Bjorn sent a slave to gather the gladiators and other slaves. He seemed to barely control his rage and disgust and refused to even look at Tyr or Thor, forcing the pair to stand by his sides. Once everyone had gathered, Bjorn had no need to signal for silence; no one dared make a sound when Bjorn reigned.

"Today a truly heinous crime has been revealed," he said. "I had intended to have others punished for their infractions but feel this crime takes precedence over any other business." Disgust laced every word. "Today, it was revealed that one of the gladiators is indeed _ergi_."

Shock and disgust crossed every face but still no one made a noise. Thor wondered just how Tyr had attacked the man; he hadn't thought rape of a male would be among Tyr's passions, but how well did he truly know the man who looked so like him? Thor stiffened, knowing what would come now. And he was correct.

A pair of slaves pulled the chains free from where they were wrapped around the whipping post, something rarely used but prominently situated. They readied the chains and turned to Bjorn for further instruction. He nodded and gestured with his right hand, nearly hitting Thor's stomach. Thor stepped back out of the way, but was stunned when the slave master grabbed him in a painful grip.

"You'll go nowhere, _ergi_!" he hissed, eyes narrowing in revulsion.

Too shocked to react, Thor stood dumbstruck as the slaves wrapped him in chains, ignoring the stitches they ripped as they bound him and dragged him to the post. By then, Thor screamed "No! Master!" but no one listened. Rather they began to form the line of punishment, a slave handing out whips for the coming beating.

Bjorn watched, eyes cold and hard, as Tyr stood behind him, still bound himself but smirking. The master intoned, "it has come to my attention that this _ergi_ has fondled himself while calling for a _man_." Bjorn spat, the thick liquid landing on Thor's chest. "And for that, he will pay his punishment, for an _ergi_ is an affront to the gods and to us." The man nodded and crossed his arms.

And the sting of the first forceful blow hit across Thor's bare back. He screamed in shock, feeling the bits of metal twisted in the leather bite his skin. Without pause, he was struck the second blow and only a breath or two later the second gladiator raised a whip to strike him. The pain seared across his back and Thor found his knees trembling by the sixth blow alone.

With the seventh cruel strike, Thor closed his eyes, trying to fight his tears of pain, shame, and acceptance. Somehow Tyr had found out, had perhaps even spied on him, and now to lessen his own crimes the other gladiator had reported Thor's worse crime. Thor hung his head, face pressed to the metal post, heated in the afternoon sun and near burning.

"Stop!"

The beatings stopped at the command, and Thor's eyes flew open. He blinked sweat and tears away trying to figure out who dared to interrupt, as the voice did not sound like the normally soft spoken Sigurd. He was correct; Fandral was the one who stood there, hand raised and anger across his features. He strode forward quickly, the metal and gems on his sword and jewelry flashing in the sun.

Bjorn uncrossed his arms, placed one across his chest, and bowed formally, followed by everyone else in the stables, except Thor and Tyr. "Master Fandral," Bjorn intoned. "I apologize that we are busy punishing a slave's . . ."

Fandral didn't give him an opportunity to finish. Rather, he shook his head. "This man isn't a slave, Bjorn. He was a freeman sold by someone who had no rights to him." Fandral stopped beside the shocked slave owner. "It is decreed by royal command that this man be released into my custody."

"Please, Bjorn, don't argue with him," Sigurd's softer voice called out, drawing attention. He ran over, hands wringing, face pale. "I went to verify his records since he was near paying off the debt. But it turns out the man who sold him had false papers, forged by a master the magistrate says." He took a breath and Fandral lifted a hand to silence him.

He looked over Bjorn, but did not seem hostile to the man, just imperious about his duty. "I was called from an important meeting to be asked what should be done. As the seller, a Lars Anderson, had illegally sold a child not listed as his own, the Laws of Debt and Servitude had been broken. Thus, in the name of the Allfather, I claim this man's freedom. Any crime he may have committed will be reviewed and punishment required rendered by the Allfather himself."

Bjorn nodded to the slaves to release Thor, who whimpered in relief, unable to hold back the sound. The slave master turned to Fandral. "He has broken the laws of the stable, Master Fandral. He is _ergi_ ," he reasonably listed the charge against Thor.

Fandral nodded, as if in acceptance. "While I agree that the stable has the right to set their own laws, a freeman is not punished for being _ergi_. As thus, I predict the Allfather will forgive the crime, as long as this man did not engage with one of the other men here?" He gestured with a ringed hand over the crowd, who murmured in their own defense.

Bjorn raised a hand and the crowd fell silent. "No. He only abused himself and so we release his case to the Allfather's wisdom. And we will recompense the debt we owe for his false sale."

Fandral smiled, as if he were chatting with an old friend, though somehow Thor doubted he and Bjorn were drinking buddies. The slaves finished releasing Thor's chains and let him drop, carefully, to the ground, treating him with all the respect due a freeman. The royal guard nodded. "Well, about that. How about we take someone else in his debt? I understand by the records that you have a gladiator who sold himself into training?"

"I have many such," Sigurd said, eyes roving nervously over his stock.

"Yes," Fandral drawled, "but this man has also been accused of a questionable crime. The rape of a prostitute. Since that is a touchy subject at best, it is probably best that his case be tried by the Allmother, who has ultimate charge over the brothels and pleasure houses. Give me Tyr's debt, and, as a representative of the Allfather, I grant you forgiveness for the debt you owe Donar."

Sigurd jumped at the chance to get out of this serious possibly treasonous trouble. "Yes, Fandral, take him. The one bound and by Bjorn is Tyr, you recall?" The slow-witted stable master gestured. "Take them both and good health to Donar." He finally turned his eyes on Thor, who still knelt in the dust, bleeding and trembling, his stitches completely reopened and fresh pain searing his arm and leg as well as his back.

"Donar?" Fandral turned to him, surprising Thor into lifting his face. "What say you, lad? Will you allow this debt switch? In their defense they had no knowledge before I told them and were justified in carrying out their laws . . . and the debt."

Pushing heartily on the hard ground, Thor rose shakily to his feet. He straightened, ignoring his pain, looking directly at Tyr as he said "and by this arrangement, I would own Tyr's contract?"

The rest murmured in surprise and Tyr's sneer turned into a snarl of disgust, but dropped into surprise and a look of fear when Fandral nodded his agreement.

"Of course, lad. After his trial, you will own him until his debt to you is paid. The Allmother will have a new contract drawn up to incorporate any punishment from the crime and the Allfather will determine how much debt he owes you to pay back your accidental slavery."

"Wait . . . my debt is nearly paid!" Tyr shouted, but Bjorn suddenly backhanded him across the face, sending Tyr reeling.

"Shut up, slave, among freemen! Be grateful we don't tie you to the post for raping a man as it is! That behavior is _ergi_ as well and worse than merely pulling your own meat in a private room!"

Tyr paled, finally his own arrogant behavior seeming to sink in for the offensive crime it was. He hung his head and dropped to his knees, signaling his obedience. Bjorn grabbed the lead rope tied to Tyr's bindings and offered it to Thor. The slave never protested.

Thor took the rope in a trembling hand and nodded to Bjorn, a signal they were equals. Without looking back at the men who had whipped him, not wanting to know who had done so as he knew they had only been obeying stable laws, Thor began limping heavily from the arena. He did not want to recall the men with hatred or disgust in the future so chose not to know their faces now. Rather, he continued to walk as Fandral fell into step beside him, Tyr following silently behind.

When they got past the wooden barriers separating the small world of the stable from the larger outside world, Fandral took the rope and passed it to his waiting driver. He then grabbed Thor's arm and eased him to lie on his front in the back of the ox cart. Once Thor was prone, Fandral climbed up beside him, meaning the driver would have to tie Tyr in the front seat for their trip.

"Rest easy, my prince," Fandral whispered, drawing a shocked look from Thor. The man nodded. "True, we need the king and queen to verify your identity, but all points to you being the second son of Odin, Prince Thor Odinson. Heimdall warned me as he was taking that poor man to the healers in the temple." Fandral shuddered suddenly.

Thor turned his face so he could watch the royal guard. He kept his voice just as low, so that the driver and Tyr could not overhear. "And what of the man, Lopt? Will he recover?"

Fandral sighed and ran a hand through his light brown hair. "It's not certain he was really even raped, my prince. He was begging Tyr to continue when the guard Hogun broke down the door. Heimdall, you would know him as Rig, had to help bind him so he could be taken to the temple for the injuries. It seems Tyr smashed him into a mirror as the man was cut all over, including his genitals." Fandral shuddered again. "But rest well, your highness. He will receive the best from the temple healers, and they will sort out whether he begged because it is his job and he feared, or if he begged because it wasn't rape and he merely likes rough play."

Blinking weary blue eyes, Thor thought about that. He could not understand how someone would enjoy pain, but he supposed it took all kinds to make the world work. Softly, fighting a sudden wave of exhaustion, Thor said "you do not need to grant me titles or such, Fandral, please. Simply call me Thor and be my equal." He blinked at the young man beside him and added, "We are of an age, are we not?"

Fandral chuckled and offered a smile. "I am twenty-four . . . Thor, a couple years older than you, but perhaps no wiser. And I would be honored to be so thought of, as friends. Now we have only to find the other princes and the family will be whole once more." Fandral looked towards the cart front and worriedly asked, "Thor, do you think Tyr might be Baldur, the elder prince?"

Thor turned his face back into the hay-strewn floor of the cart and grunted. "I do not think so. I barely recall Baldur, but he was gentle and fun and sunlight. Tyr has never been those things. He came to the stable at twelve years old, after I had been there five years already."

"Five plus seven equals twelve," said Fandral, drawing a confused glance from Thor. "Well, that would make him your age, then. Baldur was older by three years. We shall look into this, but by what you say, Tyr is not a royal prince." He looked back at Thor, and sighed. "Forgive me for not treating your wounds. They must be hellish. But we are on the way to the temple now so they can be properly tended. We will be there shortly, Thor, and then you will be given something for pain and to stave off infection."

Thor nodded and answered, "I have had worse in the arena, though each time I am re-wounded, the pain seems worse than the last time. Thank you for coming to get me."

With a soft shrug, Fandral said "Heimdall told me your were possibly Thor, but his sister, the Lady Sif, told me you were taken back to the stable in a hurry. She said the slave owner seemed angry, and she feared it wasn't just for the rape Tyr had done. Ah, you would know her as . . ."

"Lady Sif," Thor answered. "I also knew Heimdall's name before you mentioned it. We spoke last night and today I answered questions as Lady Sif asked them about the pictures she showed. One was Baldur and I."

Fandral nodded and the cart pulled to a halt. The temple was a vast building stretching larger than the stables. Several priests and priestesses ran over, a pair taking Tyr's rope and leading him off, while many came over with a cloth stretched taut. They carefully lifted Thor onto the stretcher and carried him into the building, down the cool corridors, and into a well lit room. Someone then murmured over him as a hand slid something bitter between his lips and a man told him to swallow.

Within minutes, Thor drifted off into a steady sleep, temporarily forgetting the world outside.


	9. A Twisted Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And what's happening with Loki . . .

Beyond caring that anyone might see him in his shame, Loki pushed backwards against the stranger as he thrust, whimpering "deeper, please . . ."

"Take it, whore!" The man bit his neck, drawing blood and a scream of absolute pain from Loki. He had missed the pheremone gland, and so caused no pleasure in the normal mating activity. Then he was pulling away with a painful twist, his great cock squishing out of Loki with an obscene sound as Loki's fluids began rushing down his legs.

"No!" Loki called out and turned to grab for the man who'd left him so sorely wanting and in pain. The ache in his core thrummed through his crotch and he felt empty and hot and needy.

Hogun was behind him, sitting on the big blond man, pinning him into the carpet while the bigger man screamed and struggled. An unfamiliar dark-skinned man, beautiful but looking angry, aided in keeping the unwanted, yet so desired, lover from Loki.

"No, let him have me. I need him. He fills me!" Loki absently wiped at the blood which dripped into his eyes from the cut on his forehead. He stepped forward to plead with these men ignoring the slices of pain over his body. "I need him." Tears of humiliation and desperation mixed with the blood, stinging his eyes, but Loki ignored it, sinking onto all fours and beginning to turn, displaying himself to the three men. "I need to fuck . . ." he whimpered, "I need more!" It felt so humiliating to beg for something he'd never wanted, but the lust drove him.

Hogun shook his head with a low groan. "He must have taken enhancers to act this way! He's a Gamma." The Vanir man turned his head, looking over at the beautiful dark man. "Unless this is Donar?" He released Tyr's arms and turned towards Loki with sympathy in his dark eyes.

Seeing a possible way to get that thick cock back in his needy opening, Loki whimpered. "Yes, give me him."

But the dark man shook his head firmly, tightening his grip on the struggling nude blond with blood and slick smeared over his crotch and thighs. "No. This is Tyr. Donar would never hurt someone thus." He jerked his chin towards Loki who groaned and whimpered again.

Hogun grimly shook his head and grabbed for Loki, tugging him away from Tyr and the dark man. Loki turned his focus on the guard and licked his lips then cooed, "Fuck me, Hogun. I need to be fucked hard."

With a nod, Hogun softly crooned back, "I'll take care of you, _Ast_. Let me help."

Loki sobbed in relief at the promise as the man called him _'love'_. He let himself relax in Hogun's grip. The guard stood, pulling Loki to his feet, then walked him into the sleeping room. Loki draped an arm around the trim, athletic shoulders and rubbed his throbbing cock against the rough flax of Hogun's uniform. He keened at the feel. The large bundle on the bed seemed to stop Hogun for a moment before he turned and guided Loki to the armoire, Loki reaching down to feel Hogun's crotch, pouting to find the man still flaccid. "I can take care of you, Hogun. Let me suck that cock for you," he murmured against the shell of Hogun's ear, giving it a small lick.

Without a word, apparently allowing Loki's erotic ministrations, Hogun reached into the armoire and pulled out a thick emerald velvet robe before turning and wrapping it suddenly around Loki, pinning his arms.

Loki bucked against Hogun's hip, the velvet delicious to his hypersensitive skin, but too hot, too clinging. "No, Hogun. I don't need clothes. I need your cock in me. I can ride you, or you can fuck me into the floor like an animal in rut." He ground again.

Hogun began to tie the velvet belt around Loki, securing his arms to his sides inside the robe. "I know, _Ast_. Trust me. You'll feel better." He grabbed several more robe belts, binding them strongly around the writhing prostitute.

"No!" Loki tried to pull away but couldn't find balance and draped against Hogun. "No, please, let me free. I need to fuck you, Hogun!" In the other room the sound of hard bone striking skin punctuated Loki's sobs. The sounds of someone being beaten did not mask Tyr's grunts and swears and threats.

Finally, the gladiator screamed out, "he begged for it! He's paid to take it, Rig! How can I rape someone who takes it for a living? He's a whore and he loves it! You can hear him begging for anyone and anything. He's a goddamn whore!"

Before Loki could hear the man, Rig's, reply, two more people arrived and Loki raised his moans of want louder, hoping one of these men would fill him. He recognized his night guards, Gunne and Arvind. Practically out of his mind with need, Loki screamed to them "Come fuck me! I'll take you both!" They stopped, looking confused and worried and Loki begged "now! Fuck me!"

Hogun shook his head and called out "the enhancers talk for him. He has been raped. Recall his injury of this morn!" He wrestled with the struggling Loki, trying to keep him from getting to the other room in his need.

Loki groaned as he watched Arvind hurry over to help keep the man, Tyr, down on the ground, while Gunne called out "I'll get the guard in town! He'll sort this!" Before Loki could stop him, Gunne ran off, nobody else stopping him or turning to look at Loki and Hogun.

Knowing his only hope lie with the man who at least let him grope, Loki dragged the other man down to his knees. Hogun, holding him tightly despite the bindings, dropped with him. "Please, Hogun . . . I can't stand it . . . you have to help me!" Loki whimpered urgently in his ear.

Hogun nodded and petted the long black curls with one shaking hand. "I know, _Ast_ , I know. Let me get you help while they get Ingolf from town."

At Ingolf's name, Loki whimpered and nodded, not wanting his protector to see him in such a state, in his heat, but knowing that Goth would help him. Goth could even send for Thor, perhaps. Loki moaned, not able to wait that long, he was certain. "I need him," he groaned, letting Thor fill his mind. He began to weep in earnest and continued to whimper as Hogin merely stroked his hair and held him tightly.

Long minutes passed as Arvind and Rig held Tyr captive on the ground, and Loki writhed and begged on the sleeping room floor. Another three men ran into the room, as well as a woman: Gunne, Fandral, Ingolf, and Hertha. The woman looked triumphant, though Loki couldn't figure out why, but he called to her anyway. "Hertha, help me. I need to fuck . . . please!" Maybe she'd understand?

Shock washed over her pretty face and the Beta woman shook her head, backing up. "No! You're Laufey's whore, Lopt! I'll never touch _you_. Let the enhancers eat you from the inside out for what Laufey did to my Geirrod!" And she looked at Fandral, who seemed to snarl at her.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

Ingolf jumped to Arvind's side to throw his weight on Tyr as well.

Hertha stiffened, glaring in defiant fear at Fandral. "Laufey said switch the gladiators around. So I did. And you said, Ingolf, that Lopt was only to see the gladiator. I did nothing wrong!"

Loki, in his struggling, managed to loosen his bindings; Hogun must have done a sloppy job in his haste. Loki slipped a hand free but wasn't quick enough in his lust haze, for Hogun caught him by the bandaged right arm. Loki whimpered in pain but the sound changed to a low moan as the velvet continued to shift over his body in a wicked caress. He grabbed for Hogun's trousers, fumbling the laces, desperate to free the man's apparently still flaccid cock so he could begin arousing him, too.

Hogun called to Ingolf in a voice rough with anger. _'Or is it desire?'_ Loki hoped. "Help me, Ingolf!" The young guard screamed, "He's out of his head with drugs!"

Fandral looked over and his handsome face paled as he seemed to notice that Loki's front was sliced all over from the broken glass on the mirror frame, including his erection and sack. But Loki didn't care about the pain or Fandral's feelings. He struggled to fight Hogun to get at his still flaccid cock. "Please, Hogun, please help me!" Slick and blood wet Loki's legs and dripped slowly to the floor.

The royal guard swallowed and said, "I'll hold this one, Heimdall. Go help the poor man!"

Loki looked over and watched as the beautiful Rig . . . Heimdall . . . immediately let go of Tyr, who still protested his innocence in raping a willing man who begged for it. Beside the furious blond, Ingolf seemed to want to help but dared not let go the gladiator. Scanning the room for anyone who might help, Loki noticed that Hertha had disappeared but another stranger arrived, face twisted in disgust.

The new man's eyes burned hot with anger as he ordered, "Ingolf, Arvind, Gunne!" Gunne appeared from behind him, breathing hard from his race to town and back. "Get the _ergi_ into my cart! Your master will be recompensed for the damages to his whore!" The power simply rolled off the Alpha in waves and Loki whimpered, trying to pull from the uncooperative Hogun and Heimdall to reach this new man.

Tyr shook his head and his eyes went wide in sudden fear. He screamed out "master, it is expected here for men to sex. But Donar was calling for this man in the bathing house the other day! He was craving a man, master, and not hiding it from the other gladiators!"

The slave owner didn't respond, merely striding from the room, his boots echoing on the marble stairs, and Loki turned his eyes back to the dark, mysterious Heimdall. He reached to stroke the golden-eyed man's crotch, ignoring as his three other guards wrestled Tyr to his feet, wrapped him in a stiff rope Gunne carried, and literally picked him up to carry him from the room as the man fought and protested. Fandral whirled and followed the men with his eyes, troubled, but Loki purred into Heimdall's ear. "I can love you . . ."

Hogun and Heimdall lifted Loki to stand on his feet and both tried to tie Loki back up. Heat at a fever pitch, need burning his very core, Loki again reached for the unknown but very beautiful Heimdall's crotch, and was delighted when Heimdall let him clutch at him. He purred again and stroked, feeling a large bulge under the loin cloth and knowing he could easily finish arousing this man.

But it was a trick. As the man let Loki fondle him, he used the momentary distraction to get the velvet back around him and allow Hogun to bind him once more. Finally, Heimdall took Loki's hand off his erection and tucked the arm into the velvet holding him as the Vanir finished his new knots. Protesting and begging, Loki squirmed and felt shock when Heimdall shoved part of the robe in his mouth, gagging him.

"To the temple healers. They can help him."

The threat broke through Loki's lust and his eyes widened in panic. Unable to speak through his velvety gag, he shook his head and whimpered then began to cry.

Hogun seemed to understand as he murmured "Lopt, _Ast_ , let us help you. I will make sure the healers only treat you. They won't hurt you. The Allmother protects victims of rape, be they prostitutes, wives, or elsewise. Trust me as you trust Ingolf!" He stroked the sobbing prostitute's curls again.

Finally, defeated and weak, feeling a rising heat throughout his body, Loki nodded and hung limp. He knew even if Hogun didn't that the healers would turn him in as an Omega, and then he'd be publicly executed - - but maybe it would be better than this shameful lust that threatened to drive him to madness. He grunted against his gag in a hope that they'd loosen the suffocating material. Fortunately, Hogun reached over a slender hand and pulled the velvet from Loki's mouth. The prostitute sighed. "My treasures, please," he whispered raggedly. "Do not leave them for the slaves here to steal. They are my own property, and I want to buy my freedom." His thoughts jumbled between fear, lust, and shame, but he did manage that much sense, and Hogun nodded in agreement.

"We will make sure they are protected as you are."

Since Loki had stopped struggling, Heimdall released him, instead turning to the bed and hefting the enormous heavy burden to his back. "Show me the way. I will bring his freedom price."

Hogun lifted Loki into his strong arms and began to walk from the room, and Loki couldn't resist nuzzling the young guard's neck; the Vanir man couldn't be older than himself. Fandral jumped forward to assist if needed, but seemed more troubled by Loki's behavior than the other men.

While Hogun permitted the breach of protocol, he carried Loki downstairs, quiet and semi-content in his kisses and lickings. Outside they made their way to a waiting carriage of polished wood and brass. Hogun climbed into the back, having some difficulty shifting Loki as he climbed, but then finally sank onto the cushioned seat. He settled Loki across his lap, not unbinding him but still allowing the prostitute to use his mouth on his neck, keeping Loki busy. Loki's tongue caressed along Hogun's neck as the paler man hummed in appreciation for the lightly scented Beta; he needed an Alpha, but this was a start.

Heimdall shifted his burden into the carriage at their feet, rocking the vehicle, then hurriedly moved off to help Fandral hook up a pair of horses. The door remained open as the men worked. Catching glimpses of the big, broad, golden eyed man working, Loki kept looking over Heimdall then letting his eyes rove to the more slender, athletic frame of the royal guard, Fandral. Both men were Alphas and would service him well, if he could but convince them to take his offers. Hot embarrassment welled in Loki, but he pushed it away in favor of his lust.

Enjoying the taste of Hogun's neck and shoulder, making whimpering noises, he again began trying to rub his cock on the velvet encasing him. He felt hot in the heavy winter material, like he was burning from the inside of his core. Licking at Hogun's neck he whispered, "Hogun, I know things beyond any other whore. Let me show you." He shifted again and moaned as his own trapped hand brushed against his cock. Maybe if he could get into the right position, he could relieve the building pressure himself.

Hogun flushed, his eyes narrowing, and that was when Ingolf shut the door and got up front to drive them. Fandral had by then disappeared from sight.

"Now, Hogun!" Loki ordered, desperately, his need building once more in ever quickening waves. "No one will see. You can fill me and . . ."

"Keep up those words, Master Lopt, and I will gag you once more!" Hogun threatened, pet names and endearing words gone. "I will not be rutting with you." Hogun's voice sounded as stern as the mountain, his face set in grim lines.

"Why not?" Loki begged.

Hogun shook his head but didn't answer, so Loki whimpered and nipped Hogun's neck, causing the other man to jolt in shock.

"No!" Hogun hissed and literally dumped Loki off his lap onto the floor, across the hard, jagged bundle of trinkets. Loki landed on his face, blood smearing into his eyes, and he groaned in pain this time. Hogun did not come to his rescue, leaving him on the floor for the remainder of the trip.

Once the carriage stopped and the door opened, Loki looked up from the floor, bloody, flushed, and pupils blown wide. He whimpered.

Rather than Heimdall, Ingolf stood there. He sighed but didn't yell at Hogun for dumping his charge. Instead, the stocky redhead scooped up the wanton brunet and carried him into the spacious, cool corridors of what must be the healing temple. Loki groaned and whined "you promised no temple, Goth! They'll kill me!"

"No, little Lopt, they will not. Laufey has told you many lies in your short life. The temple will heal you and cherish you, as they do all Omegas. As I do you, my little Lopt."

"Omega?" Hogun asked from right behind, horror in his voice. But it was not horror of the kind Loki expected. Rather the olive-skinned man bit out, "How dare that monster hold an Omega in slavery! The Temple will be furious with Laufey for his crimes!"

With Hogun's outburst, Loki fell silent, his desire not forgotten but another question taking momentary hold. He glanced over Hogun and Heimdall right behind. He whispered, "Omegas are not reviled?"

"Not for a thousand years, little Lopt. They are cherished and protected and pampered for their entire lives." Ingolf returned. "And if my guess is true, you are an Omega Child. Your age places your birth during the last Omega Rites. This means you are to be doubly cherished. The Temple will want to inform the royal family of your existence so they might see to your comfort and education themselves."

But the fever taking hold drove all rational thought from Loki's mind once more, and he groaned wantonly. "Goth, I need to be filled. Please, find me someone," he begged. "The Alpha behind us is perfect. He's large."

Ingolf looked behind at Heimdall's impassive face then to the approaching people, many running, all strangers to Loki, who's vision was beginning to haze in his lust. Rather than answer Loki's demands, Ingolf called, "He is an Omega in first heat, held prisoner these many years. He needs healing and relief!"

Many hands reached for him and Loki whimpered and began to hope one of these strangers could give him what he needed. "Please, somebody, anybody, fuck me!" he screamed, the words echoing off the wide walls.

They carried him into a room of plain white. There they unbound him and laid him down on a wide, firm bed. The majority of the people backed away, causing Loki to whimper. "No! Come back. Please!"

A woman leaned over him, her face lined with middle years and much care. "I am Lady Eir, child, and you will be helped here. What name do you have?"

"Lopt is what we call him, my lady," Ingolf broke in and the Lady nodded.

"You may stay as he seems soothed by your voice. The other guard should meet with our high priestess and tell what he knows."

Loki heard many feet leave the room, many bodies faded from his heightened senses. He turned his darkened eyes up to the woman, instinctively dismissing the red-haired Beta guard who felt more like a parent than an available bed partner. One thing Loki knew deep down: sex with your own parents was of the highest taboo. Sex with your siblings might or might not be acceptable, but Ingolf did not feel like any brother to him. He felt like the father he should have had, despite only ten years difference between them.

Lady Eir ran her skilled hands over Loki and began to assess his wounds. She nodded as she carefully encircled Loki's raging cock, drawing a long, low, thankful moan from the desperate Omega. "I can tend this for now but the relief will not last. He needs mating." She looked over. "He's ready to breed and that is something only an Alpha can do for him. Has he been bonded?"

Ingolf growled low as Loki bucked his hips upward, encouraging the lady's firm, pleasurable ministrations as she stroked his injured, bleeding erection. The small pains from the glass cuts didn't bother Loki as much as his lust, so he merely accepted the pain as part of the pleasure.

Ingolf sighed. "I think he was forming a bond, my lady, but then that other man began to rape him while in this state. I don't know if that will erase the first or even replace it."

The healer frowned and shook her head. "Let us hope the original bond was strong enough to overshadow a heat-rape, then. No one deserves to be bonded to their tormentor."

"Perhaps a different Alpha completely, my lady? One that has no claim on him might wipe away any former minor attachments?" Ingolf's voice sounded worried, almost desperate in his desire to help. "I've only known he was Omega for two days and he made me promise not to bring him to the temple. He's lived on inhibitors since he was nine years old. I thought they would hold off his heat awhile longer while I found a way to rescue him. I had no idea someone would be allowed in to abuse him so." Ingolf came into Loki's field of vision as he paced.

Loki felt frustration rising. The Beta woman's ministrations were pleasurable but did nothing to aid his rising lust. He felt feverish all over and an aching need that overshadowed even his wanting cock. He shook his head violently and pushed at the healer with kitten-weak arms. "No! Don't touch me!" he screamed. "You are not helping! I need to fuck! If I must, bring that bastard back so he can fill me again. At least he was helping!"

The woman sighed and gestured with one graceful hand. "Give me that," she instructed Ingolf who fumbled something from a table and handed it off to her. Without further comment, she jabbed something sharp into Loki's neck, filling him with a burning fire that coursed through his veins. His eyes widened even further, any sign of the ice green erased by his blown pupils. With the fire came lethargy and a sense of floating. His eyes grew heavy quickly and he whimpered before letting his eyes close. Vaguely he heard the woman say, "I'll tend his wounds. See the High Priestess Freyja and tell her what you know. We have a few hours before he'll wake, but his fever will increase until the Lady Freyja can find him a mate."

Loki fell into darkness.

When he opened his eyes he was lying on his back; his body felt hot and restless. He could feet his many lacerations and a dull, painful throb in his nether region. Instantly, he became aware of the needy, aching hard-on between his thighs. It pulsed with every throb in his ass, answering the begging need but unable to quench it. Loki groaned and reached to shove two fingers up himself, not caring if he hurt himself in a need for something, anything to stuff the slick, aching passage. He grabbed his cock with his other hand and began thrusting and stroking simultaneously, hoping for some small relief. All finesse and erotic teachings were lost in his growing need. He whimpered and moaned, finding a small bit of relief when his fingers found and stroked the sensitive gland inside. He did so again and again, until his cock pulsed and cum spurted across his belly, thighs, and sheets. He lay panting, his semi-erect staff still clutched in one hand, the other still two-finger deep occasionally stroking his prostate to bring about the pleasure. With that small relief, though it did not ease the want or the fire, Loki sobbed, his mind beginning to focus.

He let his head fall to the side and flushed to see a stranger quietly watching him: a very large, very muscular red-haired man with intense brown eyes and a very full beard. Embarrassed to be caught in so debauched a position, Loki did not remove his fingers or stop his stroking. Fuck it if the man thought less of him. He needed something and no one else was helping. Slowly, as he checked over the large man, Loki became aware of the scent emanating from him. An Alpha! He rolled slightly and displayed his cock for the other man. "Are you here to fuck me?" he asked breathlessly.

The man sighed and rose, beginning to undress. His cock was almost as impressive as Thor's, and Loki groaned in rising need once more. The man nodded, but seemed to be reluctant somehow. "Yes, Lopt. I have been chosen to bed you and get you with child. I am called Volstagg. I am a temple guard."

Loki laughed in relief, pulling his fingers from his passage with an obscene popping noise. "Then fill me Volstagg, and we'll talk later." He let go his cock and rolled onto all fours, presenting his ass in an instinctive invitation to mate, to breed.

"I must warn you, Lopt, that it may not work. If you have already bonded with someone, I cannot breed you." Volstagg's large weight shifted the mattress as he climbed onto the bed and straddled Loki from behind. He seemed to be fumbling with something but did not touch Loki.

"I don't care about children, brute! I just want to fuck!" Loki growled, thrusting his ass backward in search of that massive tool he'd spied. "Fill me, please," he begged.

"If the Norns mean you to bond with another, this will not work, Lopt."

"Shut up and fuck me!" Loki screamed and felt a burning sensation as two very large oiled fingers slid into him. He whimpered and pushed back against the invasion, "yes! Yes . . ." he hissed as the man began to prepare him for the much larger shaft that bobbed between his strong thighs. Many minutes passed and Loki was going mad with the wanting, but finally the giant man seemed to feel it was time. He positioned his meaty head at Loki's entrance and slid carefully in, slowly, inch by inch. Loki keened in pleasure pushing back to meet that great rod. And as the big man began his stroking, Loki lost all sense of time and place, his desire building, his pleasure rising.

At last, he tumbled over the edge, his body bucking as he came, the man thrusting hard once, twice, a third time. Then Volstagg roared his own release and hot jets of thick cum coated Loki's walls. Even as Loki and Volstagg collapsed in a tangle of limbs on the sturdy bed, the lithe brunet knew something was wrong. He felt something had not happened. Something very deep felt - - unfilled, empty. But for now, his body relaxed and his lust eased. He sighed, clutching Volstagg's arm wrapped around his waist, and fell into an exhausted sleep.


	10. Governing Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The below occurs on two different days with a gap between, noted by a triple x between the sections.
> 
> Thor . . .

A light caress to his head brought Thor from his drug-induced sleep. He blinked and tried to stretch, but winced when his back, thigh, and forearm screamed in pain. Falling still, Thor looked towards the owner of the hand still gently brushing his blond hair from his summer sky eyes.

Beside him sat a strawberry-blonde haired woman dressed in red and gold. She smiled at him in what seemed to be a welcoming way then pulled her hand back. Softly, in a voice lightly accented despite the Allspeak, she asked, "do you feel rested?"

"Yes, my lady," Thor responded, pushing away the shadows of pain. She was the woman in the portrait and her voice triggered the long buried memory. "Mother?" he looked at her face, worn with grief and the burdens of office. Thor pushed up slightly, wincing as the lash marks across his back cried out.

She smiled and reached again to touch his cheek with gentle fingers. "The healers are going to check your genetics to be sure, but my heart says yes, Thor."

He managed to shuffle his aching body around until he straddled the bed, one leg dangling over either side. Studying her, trying to remember and wondering what he should say, Thor was reduced to a slight smile which grew as she smiled in return.

"So, we have one son back." The voice was deep and sounded wise and slightly detached, but familiar. The man bearing the voice stood not so tall as Thor, but strong and unbent, his fine golden hair lightly dusted with the beginnings of the grey of age, marking him in his fourth millennia. Piercing blue eyes studied Thor from rumpled hair to bare feet. The king stood dressed in golden tunic and trousers with red and blue accents, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword.

Thor looked over the man once and bowed his shoulders and head, wincing at the scream of pain through his back. "Father . . ." he said, wondering how he could ever have forgotten the strong, wise man before him.

"We will see about that," the man replied, still sounding as if he held his feelings in reserve. "Can you stand? Walk? Or do you need more healing?"

Not wishing to appear weak, nor to disappoint the Allfather, Thor pushed awkwardly from the bed and stood before him. As a small smile spread over Odin's lips, Thor couldn't help beam his sunny smile in return. "I will heal," he assured the man.

Odin nodded once, studying him. "As I would expect. Though painful, seven lashings are not often enough to take down a man. Let us walk these halls as we discuss your slave." The man turned and strode from the room, his steps sure and steady but not hurried.

Thor looked at Frigga who smiled and took his arm. "I shall walk with you, if you do not mind, my son." She stepped out, leading Thor by gentle touches to his arm and side, guiding him to follow his father who strode ahead of them rather leisurely.

The walls they traversed appeared equal in construction and brightness, with little variation of decor. Thor glanced around and knew he would become lost in this unfamiliar maze of white had he not accompanied his parents. _'Have I truly been freed? Are these truly my parents?'_ His thoughts felt jumbled as one piled atop another.

The couple led him around one last corner and the corridor opened into a green-filled courtyard with central fountain encircled by a rainbow of flowers. Oddly enough, chained by the neck to a ring in the fountain, with enough length to allow him to sit or walk a bit, sat Tyr. His face had raised bruises along it and one eye was swelling shut, much as Thor's had two days before. The man had been dressed in trousers and tunic, boots and vest, for the first time in Thor's memory looking almost civilized compared to the last time Thor had laid eyes on him. In Tyr's lap sat a tray of food, half eaten, and beside him sat a frosted mug of rich ale. He might be chained as a slave, but Tyr was being granted courtesy beyond what most would think he deserved.

Upon noticing the royal couple, Tyr slid his supper to the bench encircling the fountain and stood, bowing over the arm he flung across his chest. He didn't straighten, and neither the king nor the queen gave him leave to, forcing him to stay in his bow of respect.

"Tell me, are you treated well, young man," Frigga asked Tyr, her voice not so gentle as when she had addressed Thor. By her tone, she judged this slave, not welcomed him.

Still bowed over, Tyr clearly said, "My Queen, yes, I thank you for the consideration and . . ."

"Be still," Odin commanded and Tyr silenced. The older man turned to his wife. "Frigga, you are protector of women, and . . ."

His words cut off at the sounds of several people running past, shouting and calling back and forth near incomprehensibly. All four near the fountain, even Tyr, looked over to watch as temple priests and priestesses ran in the direction the royal family had come from. With a grumble for the interruption, Odin glanced over at Tyr, who flushed and bowed once more. "I understand they have another patient," the king ground out, anger lacing just under the surface of his cold voice. "We will finish this in time. For now, you will be transported to the dungeons to await your fate. Finish your food, slave, as you might be long out of the sun once you are transported."

Odin whirled around and strode from the room, Frigga pressing Thor's arm to guide him in leaving as well. Neither spoke a word to Tyr, though a pair of temple guards did step forward from the shade of a pair of awning trees where they had remained in partial hiding during the royal visit. Thor did not like that he had not noticed them until they moved; his senses were dulled with the sleep drug still.

As Frigga walked Thor back to his room, she sighed. "I will talk to the victim once he is in his right mind. I understand the attack may have unhinged him." She looked at Thor.

He nodded, unable to offer any words on the matter. He knew nothing of rape, for it didn't occur in the stables. And his mind was never quick to grasp a new idea, so he could not form his opinion into words for her now.

At his door, she dropped his arm and offered a smile. "Rest, my son. We will speak again, though I hope it will be longer and more pleasant. I long to hear all about your life while you've been from my side."

Thor felt his smile tug and he nodded. "I look forward to hearing yours, as well, Mother. I have questions which need answers."

She nodded. "And the most pressing you find right now?" Her voice indicated she had little time at the present to humor him, though longing was there among the other emotions.

Taking advantage of the generous offer, now she had something emergent to do, Thor quickly asked "how long before we know if my genetics are proper?"

"Three weeks or so, my son. The _seidr_ used for such a reading is complicated and known by few. Any who claim relation to the house of Odin will undergo such trial."

" _Seidr_?" He asked without thinking then flushed at his impertinence.

With a nod, Frigga smoothed a hand down her robe then lifted it, slowly turned it palm up, and uncurled her fingers. A soft green glow began in her palm then sprang into full flower, a veritable yellow rose blooming in her palm! "Few have the patience to learn its secrets, my son, and fewer still the quickness of wit to master more than a few simple energy combinations or twists. But I shall show you how to find your own _seidr_ when we are more settled." She offered him the rose, and he plucked it carefully from her hand, amazed at the gentle spicy smell of the very solid flower. "My weavings tell me you have thunder in your heart and are born to the skies. We shall see what this means in time." Frigga smiled and walked from the doorway and down the hall, not looking back.

He watched her go and wondered at this new, confusing mystery he'd never heard of before.

A priest, old and bent and muttering to himself, carrying a food tray and a small vial of soft blue liquid, came around the same corner. Stopping in front of Thor, he twisted his neck to see up to the towering blond, smiling crookedly, with few teeth in his loose gums. "Hewe . . ." he lisped and offered the meal. There was little intelligence in the man's eyes, and Thor realized that this man was in the temple due to his child's mind.

Taking the tray with a gentle smile for the elder near the end of his time, Thor spoke firmly yet kindly. "I thank you, sir. You may go back to your duties. Go back now."

The priest nodded and hobbled off, muttering and drooling slowly through slack lips.

With a sigh, Thor turned back into the sleeping chamber and sank on the bed with his tray. He winced as the movement sent his back muscles rippling, and the still fresh wounds aching and throbbing. Idly, he wondered how Loki's day had been spent - - probably teaching yet another pair of customers the joys he had shown Thor the past two days. With a soft groan, Thor pushed images of the lovely prostitute from his mind and ate, relishing the simple, hearty food. Suspecting the blue liquid to be some potion or another for his wounds, he waited until he felt full before downing the practically tasteless dose.

It acted swiftly, surprising Thor with the sleepy sensation which quickly coursed his veins. With a frown, he lay down on his front and allowed himself to fall into sleep, hoping he would not be dosed regularly, as he preferred to remain aware of his surroundings.

xxx

As Thor wandered the vaguely familiar halls of the royal palace, he tried to absorb the last three days of his new life. Having arrived in his sleep that first night of freedom, Thor hadn't even been aware of his location change until the morning. He'd been asked questions by administrators, examined by healers, and measured for everything from shoes to armor to a horse he knew not how to ride yet. In all the chaos he had seen the royal couple only at meals, where he sat with them at the high table to be applauded and toasted by nobles and courtiers of every description, all pleased at the suspected return of one of the missing princes. Between meals he was encouraged to explore the many palace rooms, chatting with whomever he wished, and accepting their respectful bows.

He often escaped into the hallways instead, avoiding the fawning confusion of court life in favor of time alone to think and wonder. Every turn in the vast corridors brought new sites and new memories and fresh tears. How he had ever forgotten the palace and his family, Thor didn't understand, but he supposed an overwhelmed child of seven might find it easier to forget those he'd lost than to cling to seeming false hope. However, his journeys through the rambling palace were never alone, even if he failed to stop and speak to anyone he passed. Always, the royal guard Fandral was at his heels, assigned to watch over and aid him. The man actually slept in Thor's outer chamber: he had been given a suite grander than even the brothel keeper Laufey had awarded his own son, Loki.

The rooms were vast and numbered five in all: one for bathing and relieving himself, one for dressing, one for sleeping, one for visiting with close friends and family in private, and the outer room where other visitors were seen and Fandral slept rolled up on a pallet before the door. Four of the rooms had great wide balconies, open to the warm sweet air and sunshine, only the front receiving room was fully enclosed. The dressing room was almost as vast as his private sitting room as it contained his slowly increasing wardrobe, something that grew hourly as the castle seamstresses and tailors worked to provide him the clothing necessary to his rank. Apparently, despite being able to survive on little, being a prince required Thor to own more than he could ever hope to use or want.

But at the moment it was not his currently increasing possessions which interested him, beautiful and wondrous as they were. Rather, Thor was lost in serious thought, waiting for his requested audience with his father. King Odin was vastly busy, and his time was precious. The Allmother, Frigga, was equally pressed for leisure time, which might explain how Thor had mistaken her in his memory for one of a group of caregivers and not the mother he so desperately loved in his dreams. Fortunately, in the sparse time they had shared these past three days, he found that love had returned in abundance, not diminished by time or distance. Her eyes spoke of her equal love for him, though they remained sad and searching. He knew she missed his brothers as much as as she had longed for him. It was one of the things he wished to discuss in his coming audience with his father, also someone for which his old love had not disappeared.

The sound of footsteps down the hall alerted Thor and he stopped, Fandral coming to a stop beside rather than behind him. At first his guard had tried to show the kind of respect everyone expected, but Thor had reminded the man of his promise to be his equal and his friend. Thus, Fandral had taken to walking beside him, talking openly to him, and addressing him with little formality. Thor found it soothed him to have one friend among the strangers in his new life, and the rest of the people around seemed to accept that Fandral had special privilege in this relationship. Perhaps they believed the man had earned it due to his rescue, but Thor cared not what others thought. He valued Fandral's laughter and advice.

A palace messenger slid to a stop - - literally; the floors were highly polished and the messengers wore soft-soled shoes. "My prince, my lord, the Allfather requires your presence."

 _'Finally!'_ Thor nodded and offered his sunny smile to the man "thank you." And he trotted off, not quite running but certainly faster than a walk. Fandral loped beside him, easily keeping up on his long, muscular legs. "At last, Fandral. I may speak my thoughts."

"Carefully worded, Thor, as we discussed. Odin is busy and there is unrest in the outer realms. He may merely be calling you to tell you he will be at war."

Thor frowned but didn't argue. How could he? He knew little of court or ruling, and so how could he know what weighed on his father's time or heart? They slowed as they approached the vast doors to the throne room and Thor smoothed his stiff new red and gold tunic over his dark blue trousers. He was unused to clothing but knew that citizens always went about fully clothed - - as a sign of respect to one another, he supposed. Once he was ready, Thor nodded for the guards to open the doors.

The throne room stood vast and gilded in pompous glory. Thor had not yet seen this chamber, but he looked little at it now. He was too focused on the sight of his father seated on his great throne, a pair of ravens at either shoulder, leaning over to listen to something an equally serious adviser murmured to him. Odin nodded as Thor came to stand at the bottom step leading up to the dais. Thor and Fandral, a few steps behind, dropped to one knee, arm across their chests, heads bowed in respect, and awaited the notice of the Allfather.

He finally waved his hand to silence the other man and looked down at his son and the man who claimed friendship with him. "Rise, Thor Odinson," he intoned, and watched carefully, his blue eyes intent on the former slave.

Thor rose, keeping his arm over his chest but lifting his face to grant his father his sunny smile. "Your majesty," he replied, having been drilled by Fandral in the proper way to address the man in court.

"You wished to discuss things with me? Well, what are these things?" Odin asked, his voice sounded imperious but with an underlying warmth Thor couldn't help but hear. No smile graced the man's face though his eyes twinkled his good mood.

Taking that as a good sign, Thor continued to smile. "First and most serious, I wish to ask after the intended trial of the man known as Tyr, Father. He is accused of a serious crime and his alleged victim should not be left waiting for justice." Out of the corner of his eye, Thor caught sight of Fandral mouthing the words he'd drilled into Thor's head over the past three days. The sunny smile quirked then became a full out beam.

Odin appeared to ignore both Fandral's actions and Thor's wide grin. Rather, he said, "we are awaiting final verdict on the health of the alleged victim, as it appears the attack was more serious than first thought. If this man Tyr did perform this crime, he may have broken more laws than even he knew. Do you have another item to bring before me?" Odin continued to watch carefully, but seemed to respect Thor's pause to gather his thoughts.

Thor had not thought to hear that the unknown Lopt was badly off. Finally, recalling his next question, Thor asked, "Father. I am unsure of the laws concerning ownership of slaves or debt servants in the court. For now, I am under the belief that the man Tyr owes me servitude. Is this still true?" Thankful for Fandral's strict, repetitious teachings, though he had been bored by it, Thor smiled at his father, proud he had started to master the speech of court and etiquette.

With a slow nod, Odin looked over the people attending that day. He looked back at the tall blond before him. "If the person owes a legitimate debt, a courtier may bring the debt servant to the court. The words _slave_ and _thrall_ are but semantics in court. All are considered debt servants no matter what brought them to owing a contract of servitude."

Without waiting to be asked, Thor jumped into the next question, ignoring Fandral's groan at his haste. "And might I buy someone's contract, Father, or would the debt have to be directly involving me?"

A frown crossed Odin's features then and he leaned forward. "This depends, my son, on why you wish to own such a contract. Each man's punishment for crimes or sentence for debt is carefully assigned by the magistrate. If you intend to make a good hearted gesture by freeing someone before his time, for instance, you would have to have good reason to question the laws of sentencing." Those piercing eyes seemed to see right into Thor's soul.

Thor nodded, his heart falling. He had secretly hoped he could purchase, then free, Loki. But if the man's father held a legitimate contract on his son, Odin's warning just explained that Thor could not interfere. Perhaps a lesser man could free slaves on a whim, but Thor's station now prevented such a thing. Thor nodded. "Thank you, father," he said, though his smile had dropped and his tone was less hearty.

"Have you another item of business, my son?" Odin asked politely, though by his tone it was evident he expected these questions to end very soon.

Lifting his eyes, equally blue but far more open and transparent in his emotions, Thor nodded. "One more, my king." He noticed Odin sit straight at the more formal phrasing. "I offer my help, in any way I can, to locate my brothers. I wish to see them restored to their birthright as I have been." He bowed over his arm, signalling the end of his desire for an audience.

A very long silence followed, and Thor resisted the urge to shift on his feet or straighten. His shirt brushed against the bandages over his back, but after three days of excellent medical treatment, his wounds were healing far faster than he had ever thought, so the position held no discomfort. Only his own rising nerves at the length of Odin's silence made him want to fidget like a small child caught stealing sweets at bedtime.

At long last, the Allfather's voice rang out, a sound of merriment which drew Thor's head up sharply to see the smile across the elder's face. "As do I, my son. We shall discuss this later with the Allmother and see what our three minds can conjure together." With that he stood and raised his hand to signal the next courtier to come forward.

But the double doors opening wide drew curious stares and whispers. Thor's entrance had been the last expected; all other petitioners had already come to the room, it had been thought. As they watched, a dark-skinned warrior dressed in white and gold strode the long carpeted floor, his golden gaze never leaving the Allfather's. When he stood next to the bemused Thor, Heimdall bowed briefly over his arm but straightened without waiting for clearance.

"Allfather, there is a problem at the temple. An omega was found in captivity and abused and the priests cannot stop the Omega's heat. They feel it will end in madness or death."

A shock ran through the court and worried cries and whispers rose as everyone looked to the king for his reaction.

Odin frowned and lowered his hand to the sword at his side. "Go on, Heimdall, there must be more. The priests have tried mating her?"

Heimdall nodded once. "Yes, my king. They presented three different mates but none were successful in knotting. It is feared that the Omega's abuser is the bondmate."

Frigga's voice, from where she had stood silent and watchful by her husband's side, came forth, strong and concerned. "And have they tried potions, Heimdall? Inhibitors?"

He nodded once more. "They have tried but the inhibitors made the Omega sick. A bad reaction, they said, as like to poison. They ask for the Allmother to come to decide whether they should try more drastic measures."

Without looking to her king for confirmation, Frigga gathered her long skirts in one hand and stepped down from the dais quickly. "Yes, of course. I am coming now."

The dark-skinned watchman bowed to Odin and called out, unexpectedly, "My king, in my discussions with the prince in our past, he has shown a remarkable empathy for the plight of the people. His curiosity even went to how the temple treats our Omegas. Might I suggest that this unfortunate, yet rare, turn of events might provide a very good learning experience for Prince Thor?"

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they looked to Odin for his decision. The Allfather, and therefore the princes, had no reason to interfere with the temple and the Omegas; that was the provenance of the Allmother and any daughters, which had sadly not been produced in this case. But Odin took Heimdall's suggestion to heart and nodded, stepping from the dais. "An abused Omega is a concern to all of Asgard and I commend my son for his desire to help our people. Come, Prince Thor, you will accompany us to determine how we might help this poor woman. Court is adjourned."

With that, Heimdall led the royal trio, followed by a fairly sprinting Fandral, from the throne room and to an awaiting glider boat. They entered the sporting vehicle and allowed Heimdall to take them, at almost dangerously high speed, back to the temple where Thor had first been treated.

He had a sick feeling that the slave Lopt might be the Omega, and that Tyr had committed an offense as high as treason in his rape. Of course, they had referred to this particular Omega as a female, so maybe he was wrong, but Thor didn't think so; he'd mistaken Lopt for a female when he'd first heard of the attack, too. After all, who would think a man would be raped?

Heimdall brought the glider boat to a stop inside the fountain courtyard and aided the queen to dismount. The men followed in quick order, watching as several priests and priestesses rushed forward, their voices rising in a cacophony of noise in their effort to explain the victim's distress. Odin lifted a hand and frowned, silencing them. "Thor, my son, while we sort this out feel free to roam the halls of the temple and ask the staff anything you wish. I think this problem may be too far gone to explain to you as we help the poor Omega. We will tell you how it turns out when we have finished. Heimdall, Fandral, go back to the palace and get Tyr from the dungeons. He will be brought here in case our only solution lies with him."

One priest sent up his protests immediately, pleading with Frigga for intervention. "Allmother, that is horrendous! Barbaric! Even if the rapist has forced a bond with Lopt, the poor boy cannot be expected to live forever with this beast!"

"Allmother," another chimed in, "the potions didn't work because he's been dosed with Alpha inhibitor, and it poisoned him. He was given the wrong inhibitors . . ."

"I say we need to neuter him."

The last suggestion came from the High Priestess Freyja herself, and all others fell silent and backed away. She bowed to the royal couple and gestured with a graceful hand towards the main entrance. "Please, come with me and I will tell you all we have done for the child. But I fear he is too far gone in his heat fever as it is. All my attempts to aid him, all my gift with _seidr_ , has failed."

Without further words, the main group left the courtyard. Heimdall and Fandral mounted the glider again, Fandral turning to Thor. "Stay out of trouble, Thor. They'll need everyone they can to help that poor man. When I saw him, he was half-mad with fever already . . . and that was three days ago." And the pair was off to retrieve Tyr - - who might in the end be rewarded for such a heinous crime as raping an Omega if his actions had indeed forced a bonding.

Feeling sick to his stomach at the thought that the poor Lopt might be actually bonded to such as Tyr, Thor stepped through a smaller back entrance. He strode down the halls not seeing anyone, glancing into the occasional opened door. These were all healing rooms and recovery rooms, but none were currently occupied. He was in the long-term healing section of the temple then, for patients who needed more than a few hours treatment. Trying to figure out what might cause someone to need a long term stay with specialized healers, rather than a convalescence in bed at home, Thor turned a corner and found he faced a long hall that dead-ended.

About to turn back, he heard a keening moan trail eerily down the corridor. Puzzled, heart clenching at the godawful noise, Thor began to follow the heartbroken sound. As he got closer, it became interspersed with a hoarse voice calling out barely recognizable words.

"Norns, please! Somebody kill me!"

Surprise pulled Thor's blue eyes wide and he tilted his head, still following the ragged moans.

"Please just kill me if you won't fuck me! I can't take this any more!"

A second voice murmured in concern, "I cannot do so. Please, let me go. They will help you soon. I promise!" A priest, disheveled and half undressed, stumbled from the room at the end. He took a deep steadying breath, with his hand to his chest, and looked up. A flush crossed his face and he sighed, "thank the Norns! Hurry, he's gotten worse, sir."

Not sure how to take the greeting, Thor loped over to the priest, who continued to babble. "It most likely won't work. It hasn't before. But we can only hope, can't we? None of the others could knot him, and he's going mad in the heat fever! If you can't help him, they've talked of forced neutering! And in his fighting mood, it won't turn out pretty when it heals."

Keeping his voice low, Thor asked, "is the one in there the Omega, Lopt, then?"

"Yes, of course. You're at the right room. Now get in there and mate him, for the love of all that's sacred. And pray you can knot him and get him with child, or he'd be better as dead as he's begged for!" The haggard priest then shoved Thor through the open door and hurried off down the hall on a private mission he never explained.

Thor looked from the room, frowning, realizing he had been mistaken for yet another Alpha being sent to try to help the half-mad Omega Tyr had raped. He should get the real man who was supposed to do the job, but the hoarse whimpers and moans behind him drew his heart, and Thor only hoped he was the Alpha Heimdall had accused him of being so he might try to help this poor man. The least he could do was use Loki's brief lessons to bring Lopt some relief while they awaited the real selectee.

Finally turning, horror shot through Thor and he nearly collapsed at what he saw.

The Omega lay splayed wide across the bed, totally nude and finger fucking his fine ass with three slick-dripping fingers. His jerked on a swollen, near-purple cock as he grunted and thrust against himself. His eyes were blown so wide that the original color was indistinguishable. His black curls were a wild tangle that clung to his creamy skin. But worse of all, as Thor watched those fingers pistoning in and out of that gorgeous ass and that long slender cock being tugged and abused, he registered in abject horror that the poor prostitute Lopt was his beloved Loki!


	11. The Final Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, back to poor Loki . . .

Desperation filled Loki as he tried to find relief, but self manipulation no longer eased the heat burning through his entire body. The fire slowly consumed him and he sobbed, grunting and bucking while he tried to bring himself to completion. Even stroking that sensitive gland deep inside held little more feeling than a very temporary jolt which left him wanting even more. He'd been allowed to rut with three different Alphas and none had been able to fulfill him.

Something changed, subtly, drawing Loki slowly from his lust madness: a smell of sweat and faint blood and Alpha musk. Letting go of his aching staff, slipping his fingers from his passage, Loki untwisted, eyes searching desperately for the faintly familiar scent. He looked towards the door and thought he must have finally slipped over into total madness, for there stood the very man he'd been so desperately dreaming of these past three days of hell.

"Thor?" his voice rasped from too many screams and too little water. He whimpered, locking on those summer sky eyes. "Please . . . I need you . . ."

The other man seemed to come out of some sort of spell at his plea. Thor stepped forwards, slipping his tunic wordlessly over his head and tossing the fine material into a crumpled heap on the floor. He ripped the laces from his trousers instead of taking the time to untie them, his display of brute strength bringing a pleading whimper of desire from Loki's hoarse throat.

"I'm here, little one," Thor crooned and Loki sobbed to hear that strong, sure voice.

He flipped over onto all fours, facing Thor, watching him hungrily as the man pulled off his trousers and boots, never breaking eye contact. "Hurry up, idiot," Loki rasped. "I need you inside me!"

"I know," Thor rumbled as he climbed onto the bed. He was completely flaccid, bringing a sob to Loki's lips, but the large man reached for him, touching Loki's trembling shoulder. "Lie down, little one, and let me love you."

Loki nodded and rolled over onto his back, spreading his legs wide in invitation. "I know. You were assigned to love me. So get on with it." Loki reached for himself again, but this time Thor intercepted his hand. Loki groaned. "Fuck now, talk later, Thor. Now!"

The big blond positioned himself over Loki and bent his head down to kiss him.

Loki's arms snaked up and around his neck, his mouth opening, tongue working at the seam of Thor's generous lips. Murmuring against Thor's mouth, Loki pleaded "open for me, Thor, let me in." When he did so, Loki thrust his tongue inside and moaned, slanting his head to seal their mouths more thoroughly. Loki lifted one long, slender leg up and over Thor's waist, pulling downwards, trying to speed him along.

Thor pulled his mouth away. "Yes, little one, I know." He turned his head, causing Loki to growl in frustration. "Wait a moment, Loki, let me find something to . . ."

"No, now, Thor." He had no clue what the gladiator wanted, but he didn't care. Rather he reached between them and stroked at Thor's burgeoning erection. A thrill of lust shot through him at the growing cock in his hand. "I'm wet enough. Let me show you," he purred, nipping at Thor's neck and drawing his attention back to what really mattered: him.

The jolt of pleasure from Loki's nip apparently distracted Thor from his search for whatever might have been provided to help him become aroused - - after all, who would be excited enough to rut with Loki when he looked so far gone and insane? But the nip, and those wonderful clever fingers, did the job of any aphrodisiac the temple could have provided. Loki delighted in the feel of the fully erect staff filling his hand, pulsing with need for him alone.

With a soft moan, Thor latched his own lips onto Loki's neck and suckled gently, drawing a keen from the man writhing below him. "Yes, Thor, like that," he crooned back, angling the cock so the big meaty head touched the hot slick entrance behind Loki's own raging erection. "Just push inside, love," he encouraged the untutored man.

Grunting softly, Thor did as he was told, wrapping one large hand over Loki's smaller, more delicate one, and helping guide his massive tool into the over-slick passage. Thor's cock glided in effortlessly and Loki keened in pleasure. "Gods, yes! Thor, give me all of you!" Thor gripped Loki's hips tightly, inadvertently bruising the delicate flesh, but Loki didn't care; he wanted so much more.

"All of me, little one. It's all for you," he agreed, thrusting to the hilt as Thor filled Loki completely with his large cock. Thor paused, taking slow unsteady breaths, even as Loki whimpered and tried to buck further against him to entice him to action. With a soft rumble, Thor moaned "you are so hot, little one, so tight. I do not wish to hurt you."

Loki threw his head back and wailed, "you hurt me by doing nothing, idiot! Fuck me!"

And then Thor pulled slowly outwards, Loki's passage clinging as if reluctant to let him leave. Loki keened and Thor thrust in again, smoothly for all his inexperience. His movements remained slow, tender, but each thrust drove Loki closer to his pending release and he merely whimpered with each new slide of that massive organ. Head still pressed backwards against the pillow, Loki moaned lewdly, "yes, there . . . like that! Harder, Thor, I need to feel you inside me!"

His words seemed to spur the man and Thor grunted, thrusting harder, faster. Loki's fingers clawed at Thor's shoulders, drawing lines of blood with his ragged, untended nails. He lifted his head from the pillow, finding Thor's eyes steadily watching him, a smile on his wide mouth. Loki locked eyes and bucked to meet every thrust, his painfully swollen cock bouncing between them with each plunge of Thor's tool. The big man grunted as he pistoned in and out, and Loki's whimpers rose in counterpoint.

It took only minutes for the desperately lustful Loki and the virgin Thor to near their first climax as they rutted in near wild abandon. With each thrust the pair whirled closer to the edge, until Loki threw his head back once more, tightening around the still thrusting cock, muscles squeezing him in an effort to free Thor's seed. It seemed impossible, but the blond's cock grew in size, seeming to double as he continued to slide in and out, still seeking fulfillment. Loki whimpered and clung to Thor's bleeding shoulders, somehow knowing that this had been what he'd missed with the other men, this enlarging, this total stretching and filling.

Without thinking, Loki crooned, "claim me, my love! Make me yours!"

And, on instinct alone, Thor savagely bit into Loki's neck, rupturing the gland under the silken skin, sending endorphins raging through the man bucking beneath him. He lapped at the blood and clear fluid mixing to run down Loki's clammy skin, tasting the salt of the man's sweat as it combined with pheremone-laced serum. Loki's scream mixed pain with sheer ecstasy and he clamped his legs around Thor's waist, the muscles in his passage wringing Thor's member in what seemed a death-grip. With a roar, feeling his knot travel up his shaft and lodge at the head, locking them in place, Thor began to spew his load, painting the walls of Loki's womb with hot, gushing jets of life-giving seed. Loki's cock, untouched, spurted rope after rope of cum, answering his mate's release.

They remained as such, Thor's back bent impossibly as his hips locked in place, Loki's cock spent and lying bruised and flaccid across his pelvis. Their hearts hammered together, Thor's arms trembling as he continued to hold himself up, off Loki's limp body. Slowly, the pair made eye contact once more and Thor moved his lips to caress over Loki's in a tender kiss of gentle claiming.

"Mine," he whispered.

Exhaustion wrapped around Loki and finally, after days of hellfire, he felt relief from the restless uncontrollable sensations that had wracked him. Smiling, tired but well pleased, Loki moved his hips ever so slightly, enjoying the sensation of still being filled, still locked in place with the big man above him. He nodded and sighed. "Yes, your's, my love." He let Thor drop tiny kisses on his mouth as he merely inhaled the beautiful scent of the man.

The sound of several people arriving barely registered with Loki, and he merely stirred his hips again, just to remind Thor who was truly important here. "Tell them to leave, idiot. I'm busy," he whispered hoarsely and smiled to feel Thor's chuckle rumble through his body.

"I would say neutering is probably not necessary, Lady Freyja," a sardonic feminine voice stated from the doorway.

Annoyed, Loki raised his voice to a raspy threat. "If you don't leave me alone with my mate, I will hunt you down, one by one, and neuter you all. Get out!" He pulled Thor's head down once more, sealing his lips possessively over the other man's.

"Well, you heard the boy," a strong male's voice said as the sounds of people shuffling from the room came to the nearly oblivious couple. "We'll talk to the boys later. I predict with a Prime and Omega bond, it'll be hours before that knot releases." The man sounded a mix of exasperation and pride but, as he then shut the door, Loki forgave him his petty interruption.

For now.


	12. Waking Problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The "Story of Four Little Boys" Frigga tells, as well as other history, is being withheld for spacing/timing. However, if anyone is interested, I can write the actual story up (since it is a Thor-based historical story, not a fairy tale).
> 
> Back to Thor . . .

A feeling of warmth, of tired completion filled Thor's body and he smiled. His body ached, especially his back, which he'd had in that uncomfortable arch for so long, and his genitals, which had done more than he'd even thought possible. That largeness of his staff, the heaviness of his balls, had gone and he was left with a soft, almost pleasurable ache between his legs. Not his back, though; his back ached like he'd been wrenched around in the arena. The feel of the slender, warm body snuggled against him brought with it far more pleasant memories than any day in the arena. He let his summer blue eyes rove down the sleeping man in his arms and sighed in contentment. He'd found Loki again.

A thought began to push the contentment away: what if he hadn't helped Loki at all? The priests were talking about neutering him to stop his heat madness. And Loki, private untouchable Loki, had been begging to mate anyone, even the priest tending him apparently. If that was what a heat was like, no wonder people used inhibitors. Frowning, Thor lightly stroked Loki's disarrayed, sweat-tangled curls. Hadn't a priest said that Lopt, their name for Loki apparently, had been using Alpha inhibitors? Those were probably available at the local apothecary; no one would have need to carry anything for Gammas . . . or Omegas. Heimdall had said Loki wasn't a Gamma but an Omega: one of those rare people who were protected by the temple. So, why hadn't Laufey put his son in the temple? The healers here could take care of seizures, couldn't they?

But they hadn't been able to help with Loki's heat. An horrifying thought gripped Thor. What if he hadn't helped, either. What if Tyr was Loki's bondmate because he was the first to have sex with Loki . . . rape yes, but he had been the first to breach Loki's virginity. He'd been the first to actually try to mate with the beautiful prostitute. Thor hated the idea of anyone touching Loki; he felt the man was _his_ to protect, to love. But Odin had sent for Tyr to mate Loki, to finish what he'd so brutally started.

With a small moan, Thor stroked his hand from Loki's hair to his creamy shoulder.

The sound of a happy sigh alerted Thor that Loki had awoken. He smiled down at the green-eyed man, who smiled lazily back. Then the panic seemed to set in and Loki began to sit up, pushing at Thor's arm. His eyes widened even further and he began to twist away, but Thor didn't like the fear he'd seen. "You are safe now, little one. I am here," he rumbled.

"Thor?" he rasped, voice hoarse from days of screaming and crying. He seemed to collapse back against Thor and whispered "I thought you were Tyr." At Thor's reassuring murmur, Loki looked around the white room, the sparse furniture, and the trail of Thor's clothes across the floor. He groaned. "Ingolf promised not to bring me to the temple."

Again sitting up, this time twisting to look at Thor, who slowly rose to sit beside him, Loki gestured almost helplessly with both hands. "And now you know my secret. I am not a Gamma sick with a curse from the Gods." His face twisted in bitterness. "I'm more than cursed. I am an Omega. And now everyone knows my shame." He met Thor's eyes, defiance rising through the misery. "I will be executed."

With a relieved smile, Thor reached up and stroked one strong finger down Loki's cheek. "Do not fear that, Loki. My father changed those evil laws over a thousand years ago. Omegas are no longer executed."

Confusion filled those ice green eyes, chasing the other emotions away. Slowly, Loki's eyes roved Thor's face and figure before he finally said "Your father? The one who sold you . . . was a magistrate?"

With a simple shake of his head, golden hair rippling, Thor smiled, almost apologetically. "Nay. He is Odin Borson, the Allfather." Thor watched Loki's reaction.

Anger, betrayal, distrust, confusion, all crossed those fine features until his face settled on his hunted, vulnerable look, eyes wide and haunted. Softly, Loki whispered "he better be good to you." He began to turn from Thor.

The words confused Thor and he grasped Loki's shoulder in one strong, yet gentle hand. "Loki? Don't leave me . . . please?" He felt a sense of forboding, as if he could read Loki's withdrawal.

"And where would I go, idiot?" Loki's voice sounded a little less hoarse, a bit of his amused exasperation creeping in. The graceful brunet gestured with his left hand to the white sleeping chamber with the rumpled bed. "I've traded in a prison madhouse for . . . whatever this is, if it's not a death sentence." He sounded a bit defensive and wouldn't look Thor in the eyes, but he didn't pull away either.

Frowning, eyes raking over Loki's body, Thor asked "are you in pain, little one? I did not wish to hurt you when we mated . . . you seemed so lost . . ."

The other man groaned and shook his head, turning fear-soaked green eyes on Thor. Loki shifted and winced, apparently sore after four days of sex with four lovers and that torture at the hands of Tyr. Thor straightened as well and Loki groaned softly again.

"Laufey will kill me even if the temple doesn't, Thor. He had," Loki's face twisted in disgust, "such plans for me." Pushing up from the bed, Loki winced again but stood and walked slowly towards the door. He reached for the knob.

Thor followed him, reaching out. "You are hurt, little one, and upset. Allow me to help you." He ached seeing Loki so lost and confused.

"Why?" Loki stopped, back stiffening. He looked over his shoulder, green eyes narrowed. "Because you are a prince . . . _my lord_?" He stressed the title, sounding bitter, and Thor winced. Loki turned and crossed his arms over his chest, "and when did the Allfather's finances get so low he had to sell his son and tell everyone it was a kidnapping?" His voice dropped to a low, hurt tone and he practically sneered. "You know, _Donar_ ," the name sounded as an insult now, "I've had a lot of men lie to me in my life - - most wanted to fuck me. Laufey wanted to use me as a weapon against his enemy. But what could I have that you could ever need or want?"

Heart seizing at the distrust, the underlying need, the genuine fear, Thor could only answer as honestly as he knew how. "I want _you_ , Loki . . . just _you_." He shook his head softly, worried and hurt by Loki's reaction to him, his accusations. "I have never lied to you, little one, and I never intend to. I love you, Loki."

"Love?" Loki rolled his eyes, disbelief dripping from the word. "You have seen me three times and you've grown to love me so soon?" He hugged himself, his eyes heavy with the misery, that haunted look filling the ice-green depths.

"Yes," Thor stated simply. Now that the emergency of Loki's heat madness seemed to have retreated, and they were no longer curled around each other in the bed, Thor took in the other man's lithe body, creamy skin marked with numerous freshly healing scars, as if someone had taken a thin blade to him in a random pattern of torture. The muted lighting along the edges of the temple ceiling shone briefly off those pink scars with every breath Loki took. Sudden horror filled the large blond and he reached over to gently trace the largest of the injuries - - across Loki's forehead.

The brunet flinched, but he did not pull away. His distrust seemed to fall away under the misery, and vulnerable green eyes met worried blue ones. Thor frowned fiercely. "Did Tyr do this to you, little one?" His voice, as well as his ire, rose; Thor had never been a particularly calm man. His eyes blazed blue fire, and the anger was seemingly echoed by a loud crash of thunder all around followed by a bolt of intense blue-white heat striking outside the temple wall and lighting the long hallways to near blinding.

Loki's ice green eyes widened but not with fear. He seemed aroused! Pink tongue tip darting out to lick his lips, he stepped over to Thor and ran a delicate hand over the blond's powerful chest. Looking into Thor's thunderous eyes, he practically cooed, "you do care about me, don't you?"

Thor didn't know how to take the sudden shift in the other man, but chose to simply go with it. "Yes," he said, gripping Loki's shoulders in strong, calloused hands. "I love you . . . and I will make sure mother knows how Tyr abused you at his trial!" He took a deep breath then rumbled, "though I would prefer to punish him with my hammer!"

Suddenly, Loki sealed his mouth over Thor's in a hungry kiss, hands kneading at the broad, muscular chest. Thor gladly responded, slanting his head to gain better access and wrapping his arms around Loki's slender waist. He lifted him from the ground and Loki complied, wrapping his legs around Thor's hips. Loki's stiffening staff brushed against Thor's bringing a deep rumble from the larger man. Loki broke the kiss, letting one hand caress down Thor's chest between them, slowly swirling his clever fingers lower, reaching Thor's chiseled abdomen, though the fit was tight as they were pressed so close. Leaning into Thor, Loki whispered "And Tyr was the one who speared your leg, was he not?"

"Yes," Thor responded with a soft frown. Rather than dwell on the arrogant criminal, Thor kissed Loki's soft, clinging lips once more, pleased when the man didn't pull away. Thor stepped towards the wall, kissing, rubbing their crotches together, until Loki's back was against the door frame . . . _'when did we get to the door? And when did it open?'_ Thor pushed away the random thoughts as his senses filled with Loki, an arousing scent that wrapped around him and made him hunger to thrust inside that lithe body and fill him with seed, claiming him for all to see.

"Love me again . . . now," demanded Loki against Thor's mouth, his lust matching Thor's. He pulled away enough to run his hand from the former gladiator's waist around his side to his back. There, Loki's hand froze and he instantly pulled away from the kiss, eyes widening in shock. Despite their arousal, Loki unwrapped himself from his lover, standing shakily on his feet, leaning only slightly on the door frame. Imperiously, Loki gripped Thor's shoulders and turned him.

Thor followed his lover's guidance, uncertain what game they played but willing to humor the man.

Shock ran through Loki's voice, chased by anger, as he demanded, "what did they do to you? You weren't supposed to be fighting, idiot!" He turned Thor again and dropped to his knees, ignoring the massive semi-erect cock beside his cheek as he unwound the light bandages around Thor's thigh, revealing the rehealing wound. Loki hissed, eyes narrowed, and glared up at the man towering over him. "You have torn those stitches! Did my instructions mean nothing to you?" Before Thor could answer, Loki stood and backed from him, anger darkening his eyes a near emerald glare, all signs of passion gone. "No, why would they?" he spat. "I'm just a _whore_. I . . ."

"Do not call yourself that!" Thor roared at Loki, now equally unaroused.

Stunned green-blue eyes turned up to the larger man and Thor, still angry and ashamed at how he had hurt Loki with that very word, told him, "you are no whore and never were, Loki!" Softening his voice, Thor continued, "you are free now, little one. By the Allfather's decree you may live in the temple and have an education and . . ."

A sigh escaped Loki, bringing Thor to a stuttering halt. "Another prison?" the raven-haired man asked.

"The temple is not a prison," Thor corrected gently.

Loki studied Thor a moment before gesturing to the room, left handed, his eyes remaining fixed on Thor. "Tell me, _Prince_ Thor," again he stressed the title, as if he were trying to pick a fight. "Do the priests allow _Omegas_ ," he seemed unable to hide the tremor of fear and disgust in his voice, "out of the temple? Do the people treat _my kind_ with courtesy and respect?"

"Yes," Thor responded eagerly, causing Loki's eyes to widen from either disbelief or surprise. Thor pushed on, wanting Loki to understand he was finally free . . . truly free. "Omegas are protected and revered in the temple. They aren't required to mate with anyone unless the population falls too low. Then they hold the Omega Rites, and their children are provided for by the Allfather and Allmother. To prevent breeding before that, the Omega's are given inhibitors and . . ."

"A pretty prison where I will be held, drugged, until I am needed by Asgard to fill my breeding duties. At which time I will be rutted . . . like a _whore_!" Loki flung away from Thor, anger once more blazing in his eyes. "Laufey may have used me in his mad plots, but at least he never fed me pretty lies about love."

Unsure how to sooth Loki, or answer such a charge, Thor merely responded, "but I _do_ love you, Loki!"

"Loki?" the voice came from the open doorway and both men turned to find the tall, strawberry-haired queen standing there. Frigga still wore her court clothes, marking this the same evening of their arrival. Her hair had been pulled up on top of her head, the only difference from earlier, and her eyes seemed tired yet pleased.

Relieved, knowing Frigga might explain things better than he could, Thor smiled. "Mother, this is Loki, son of Laufey . . ."

"Son of Laufey?" Frigga looked at the lithe brunet, a smile lighting her face, studying the raven-haired man intently.

Loki slipped his arm over his chest and bowed formally to the queen, apparently unbothered yet again that he was nude in public, or that Frigga remained the only one presently clothed.

Gracefully, Frigga walked to the chair in the corner of the room and picked up a white linen robe draped over the back. She stepped over to Loki and offered him the robe with a gentle smile. "Please feel free to dress, Loki. I am here to discuss what you wish for the future."

As Loki straightened and took the clothing, a thoughtful look crossed his face. He slid into the robe, tying it shut securely. Never once did he unlock his gaze from Frigga's, both seeming to look for something in the other.

Flushing slightly at his own nudity before his mother, the queen, Thor glanced around, found his trousers, and pulled them on with little grace. He ignored the small cloths he'd been wearing earlier, they felt so restrictive, but did grab the tunic. Without a word, he slipped the fine cloth over his head as Frigga broke eye contact long enough to give Thor an approving smile. He returned it with a sunny grin.

Once more turning to Loki, Frigga offered her arm and asked "can you walk with me?"

He nodded in return, taking the offered arm. The trio slowly walked from the room, down the long hall, and turned towards what Thor guessed to be the central courtyard. As they moved, no one speaking, Thor felt his muscles unkinking and could tell Loki's soreness ebbed as well. He smiled, watching Loki's grace as they made their way through the hallway, the younger man looking all around them, allowing the Allmother to guide their steps in this very alien world. When they arrived in the courtyard with it's flowers and trees and fountain, Loki's mouth opened in surprise. His eyes wide and wary, the man stepped away from Frigga and onto the grass, his bare feel gliding slowly, softly over the warm earth. Wonder crossed his beautiful face as he breathed in the natural perfumes of the garden oasis.

Thor placed a hand on Frigga's arm and whispered, unwilling to break Loki's enjoyment of being outside for the first time since his childhood, "why does everyone repeat me when I tell them Loki's name? And his father's? Heimdall did so as well."

With a gentle smile, Frigga led Thor to the bench around the central fountain. She sat gracefully and said "we three will talk. Sit, Thor. Let me tell you the history you have not learned in your youth. But first," she turned to Loki who gently touched a deep golden-colored flower petal. "Lopt? Or do you prefer Loki?"

The man turned and strode over to sink onto the bench where she patted. He frowned slightly, ice green eyes flitting to Thor then back to Frigga. "Laufey always called me Loki, but the staff at the brothel took to calling me Lopt in my youth. I believe they knew me by no other name. Since I have been locked away in my suite only Laufey and Thor have called my by any other name." He looked confused and frustrated. Apparently, coming to a decision, his steady gaze locked with Frigga's and he stiffened his shoulders. "I would prefer my real name, but I no longer feel I know who I am."

Frigga reached up and stroked his cheek softly, as gently as he had the flower petal. He accepted the touch, much to Thor's surprise. _'Maybe he doesn't feel threatened by a woman?'_ he thought. His blue eyes watched the pair in growing wonder.

"We will help you find that answer," the queen assured the lost man. "Until we find your identity, would you prefer Loki? It is what Thor calls you." Her voice came out gentle, caring.

Loki nodded and offered a soft smile in return, making Thor's heart clench at the gentle expression. "Yes, please," Loki answered Frigga. He paused then asked, "Have we met before? You are very familiar to me."

Frigga dropped her hand from his cheek and laced her fingers with Loki's. He seemed to accept the contact unconsciously, and Thor smiled to see him relaxed for the moment. In their brief contact before, Loki was always moving, always taking control of things. Here, the man let Frigga take the control.

Finally, Frigga spoke softly, yet distinctly. "Let me tell you the story of four little boys . . ."

Hours passed and priests brought the trio food and wine. Some breaks were taken so they might relieve themselves, but nothing was discussed while apart. As the time crept by, several other people came to the courtyard, silently sitting in the grass or along the pathway, listening to the history the queen relayed, of the births of Baldur then Thor; of Odin's indiscretion and the subsequent birth of another boy child, Vidar, with a cousin named Grid; of Frigga's illness and resulting infertility, and Odin's offer for Vidar's legitimacy should he prove worthy of such. As priests came and went on their duties, the younger men settled eventually at Frigga's feet, Loki unconsciously curling into Thor's side as they listened to this tale of loss and love.

Finally, Frigga appeared to come to the crux of the story. She mentioned that due to a plague sweeping the children of Asgard, an Omega Year was called. She performed the rites of fertility and let her weavings guide her as to which Alphas would get to present themselves for Omega mates. When her own husband's name came up, they rejoiced that an Omega child would be coming to live in the palace, after conception and birth of course, as all Omega-born children go to live with the other parent.

But such seemed not the case, as Frigga revealed that the Omega Odin was chosen to breed was one of the very rare male Omega's, a beautiful man named Laufey. Their mating seemed to fail as the Omega continued his heat. As Odin returned to his duties, it was later revealed Laufey had a mate, a priest who broke the Omega Laws to breed with an Omega unsanctioned. As punishment, and due to not knowing whose child grew in the Omega's womb, Laufey and the priest, Farbauti, were hand-fastened and the priest stripped of his duties and office. He was demoted to healer, and the pair ordered to live in the temple and aid other Omegas. The babe, when he was born, was taken from them and sent to the palace to be raised as the third prince.

"We allowed Farbauti to name the infant despite his lowered status, and he chose Loki. He gave the boy to us with words of hope as his mate looked on. Laufey seemed most pleased to have a child in the palace." Reaching down, Frigga took Loki's hand and smiled at him. "We ever called him by a pet name from the moment he came to us . . ."

" _Ast_!" Thor interrupted looking at Loki in wonder. "You are my little brother." With new eyes, he studied the graceful, beautiful lover he had so recently lain with.

"Yes," Frigga answered with a warm smile. "Though some of the staff began by calling him _baby_ , it quickly changed."

"But . . . " Thor suddenly grew worried. In his time in the stables he had only heard whispers of sex and relationships. _Ergi_ was forbidden there, though not outside the stable. And anyone knew that to lie with one's parent was the very strictest taboo, enough to call death from the Gods. Slowly, pulling Loki tightly against him at the growing fear, he asked "but siblings who lie with one another . . ."

"My husband is my brother." Freyja spoke from the doorway behind them, causing the pair to startle and look about in wonder at the amount of people sitting around them in the evening air. Apparently having missed most of the conversation, she now joined the group, answering the last question she heard. "Heimdall was a product of siblings, as well." She gracefully walked over to sink beside the golden haired warrior with a serious look on her handsome face. "In places such as Midgard, where their genetics are still weak, sibling love might produce genetic failures and so is taboo. But on Asgard, we are beyond such flaws and can correct invetro errors before they become permanent. However, sibling love is only encouraged if it is consummated during a festival or due to a pairbonding approved of by the temple."

She looked to Loki who began to pull away from Thor, and the bigger man wanted to weep at the loss. Freyja seemed to change the subject as she continued, proving she may have heard more than she'd let on, though not all. "An Omega is not often encouraged to leave the temple or breed, and many agree to these restrictions for fear of being worn out from child-rearing. But Omegas _do_ form bonds at times and these bonds should be respected. This is a hard lesson we learned early on and is why the temple allowed Farbauti and Laufey to remain together, despite Farbauti's breach of his vows to protect, care for, and not to touch the Omegas in his care. It is why, when Farbauti died and Laufey went back into heat, we had to take such drastic measures."

"Drastic measures?" Loki formed the words slowly, an edge to his normally silken voice.

"And so, he was neutered." The voice belonged to the Allfather, strong and detached, as he met Loki's green eyes with his own blue. He frowned slightly and added solemnly, "we would have done better to kill him than to force him to live without his mate."

Freyja nodded and looked directly at the green-eyed brunet, her voice as reasonable as Odin's as she added, "We had to neuter him. It was the only way to break his madness and save his life."

"Neutered . . ." Loki sounded horrified, but understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes. Loki suddenly paled and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling completely from Thor. He rose quickly and stumbled for the door but didn't make it before he sank trembling to his knees, body wracked with violent shudders, as he vomited on the garden pathway.

Priests jumped up to aid him, but Thor pushed them aside, at Loki's hip in a heartbeat. He wrapped his arm protectively around the leaner man, pulling his raven curls out of the way with the other hand. He felt helpless and looked to his parents for aid, though they could hardly know what Loki had been thinking to nauseate him so.

Frigga approached and sank down on the other side of Loki, touching him lightly on the shoulder. That light green glow representing her connection to _seidr_ began in her palms and caressed over Loki's heaving form. Slowly, as the energy enveloped Loki, his sickness seemed to ease and he went from vomiting to dry heaves to a hard crying, panting sort of sound. Then he just lay there, wrapped in Thor's strong arms, Frigga pulling away her hand and _seidr_.

Thor let Loki's hair go and stroked the soft jumble of curls. "Maybe you should be in bed still, little one?" He removed his hand from the silky strands of hair and brushed his own shoulder-length blond locks from his storm-worried blue eyes. "Is it . . . your heat?" A wave of misery washed over Thor as he thought of Heimdall's words of earlier: _'They presented three different mates but none were successful in knotting.'_ Had he just been one more Alpha rutting on poor Loki? Thor felt nausea well up at the thought of treating his love with such disrespect. Then he recalled that the priest, Farbauti, had done that to Laufey and had been punished severely for it. Guiltily, Thor knew he deserved such punishment if he had treated Loki in anyway less respectful than he deserved. Thor's wayward thoughts were interrupted by Freyja.

"His heat is done. Thank you for helping him, Prince Thor. Obviously we hadn't thought to try a Prime." She watched the couple by the doorway. "Now, we need to let Lopt decide what he'd like to do."

"Do?" Loki asked quietly, his voice once more hoarse, this time from the recent abuse of illness. "I'm not sure . . ."

The woman nodded and drew her robes around her figure, still lean despite child bearing. She watched Loki with a kind expression, at odds with her determined hardness when she'd suggested they needed to neuter him mere hours before. "Of course, my dear. There are many options open to you. You may stay here at the temple. You may travel the realms with a guard contingent, aiding others or merely touring. You can even go on to the royal palace and become a member of court or assume duties as you see fit."

Quietly, Loki asked "what about my heats?" He allowed Thor to help him to his feet, shaking, and guide him away from the pile of sick, which a pair of priests hurried forward to clean up, sympathy on their faces. "I'll be raped again if I go out there!" He suddenly sounded as if he fought fear, and Thor's heart ached for the proud, defiant man he'd met just days before, now a fearful, almost broken spirit from the tortures of the week.

"We have suppressors for . . ." Freyja began but Loki cut her off.

"No! I'm sick of the seizures and the mindlessness and being helpless everyday!" He pulled out of Thor's arms, stiff and withdrawing, and stepped back. "So, how can I live anywhere?" As if he just realized something utterly horrible, Loki froze, his eyes wide like a wounded animal caught in a bright light. His voice shook as he hoarsely said "you'll have to neuter me like you did Laufey . . . then I'll be as insane, as disgusting as he is!"

Thor strode that last step to his love's side and pulled him back against his strong chest, murmuring, "No one will do that, Loki."

"Loki?" Frejya asked, eyes widening and revealing she had missed that crucial bit of information at the beginning, looking over the pair in interest. "The youngest prince?"

Odin spoke up again. "Yes, Priestess. It would seem that my sons are bondmates." His voice sounded neutral.

It was as if no one knew how to respond, even Loki freezing in Thor's embrace, watching the High Priestess as she digested this information. Finally, breaking the tension, Frigga touched Odin's arm and smiled. She looked at Loki. "You don't have to live on inhibitors, Loki. As long as your mate is by you for your heats, you're free to go wherever you wish."

"And with the Temple's blessing," Freyja finally added, her eyes intent on the dark-haired man.

"Bondmate . . ." Loki's ice green eyes blinked slowly and he leaned back into Thor's strong arms, perhaps finally accepting he had such a right. Softly he asked, "wouldn't I have to do what Thor wants? He's the Alpha."

As the priestess and the royal couple stared at Loki, their looks incredulous, Thor felt he needed to reassure his love, rules and cultural norms be damned. He cut off Odin before the king could answer. "No. I'll go wherever you go, little one. Do whatever it is you desire." He wrapped his arms a little tighter around the lean, athletic man in his embrace. "I love you," he added for good measure.

Odin chuckled. He actually cracked into a smile and guffawed. "An Omega follow an Alpha?" He shook his head, but the smile dropped and his blue eyes seemed sad and serious. "Loki, for one thousand years, the Omegas have had the Right of Refusal. If you choose, you can go to . . . " he seemed to search for an obscure place no one might willing choose and settled on "Jotunheimr, and Thor would be honor-bound to follow you. Now you have bonded, all his wealth and titles belong to you, to use or withhold as you see fit." He shook his head, great mane of grey-dusted blond hair rippling around his shoulders. "I do not know what Laufey has told you, but if you chose, you could even be queen someday . . . if we never find Baldur." He shrugged suddenly, "And if Thor is who we think he is." He added the last with a great sigh and Frigga took his hand.

"There will be time for that later, husband," she murmured, eyes on Loki who had begun to look sick again. "For now, we should leave the boys to rest. They have much to consider as it is." Frigga gently stroked Loki's cheek and smiled at him. "The genetic testing will show results soon, and we will know not only if Thor has been found," she smiled at the blond as if to tell him she was already convinced he'd come home, "but we will know, too, who your sire is. I have no doubt you are Loki, born of Laufey, our _Ast_."

Loki didn't seem to be listening anymore. Rather, he leaned heavily into Thor and turned his head from Frigga's touch, breathing deeply as if trying to control himself. At the Allmother's worried look, Thor carefully bent and slid an arm under Loki's knees and lifted the brunet against his broad chest. "I will take him back to his room, Mother," he murmured and stepped around the gathered priests to carry Loki back into the long, white hallway.

By the time he got his mate to the small room, Loki's vibrant eyes had closed and his breathing had steadied. He had fallen asleep in the safety of his mate's arms. Thor smiled softly and bent his head down to place a gentle kiss on Loki's lips.

"I do love you, little one," Thor whispered.


	13. Shock upon Shock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Again, the missing days are marked by a triple x.
> 
> Again, Loki's turn . . .

Opening his eyes, Loki could tell that it was full night outside the temple; the lights inside the room had been dimmed to near darkness leaving only a shadowy outline of furniture and walls. Someone lay in bed with him, a large muscular arm encircling him, trapping him, a massive body pushed up against his back. Loki felt panic rise and he began to push at the arm before the scent hit him. Thor . . . his mate. Drawing a soft sobbing breath, Loki ran his hands over the warm skin, trying to get his heart to slow, his breathing to even out. He sobbed again and wondered if he'd ever be able to wipe away the memory of Tyr ripping into him from behind, pinning him to that mirror.

Unable to lay there, despite the protective warmth of Thor, Loki finally lifted the strong arm and slid out from under it. Thor barely responded, murmuring something in his sleep and snuggling his head deeper into the pillow. Loki watched him sleeping for a heartbeat, two, three, then reached for the temple-issued robe and pulled it on. He needed air, space. On quiet feet, Loki slipped from the small bedroom into the wider, open hallway.

He drew a long, shuddering breath of the ozone-laced air. There was a storm in the air. He walked down the hallway in the only direction available and soon the dead end opened into a perpendicular hall. Walking slowly, Loki let the sameness of everything, the white walls, the conformity of the architecture, sooth him. It might get annoying in the long run to live in such a colorless world, but for now, with no pressure to assimilate anything, Loki could feel its calming effect.

Thus, when a soft light glimmered from a nearby room, the very oddity of it drew Loki's curiosity. He stepped over to the open doorway and peered inside.

A healer stood by the single bed, his body practically hiding the patient he tried to help. He had his hands out, on a white-linen bandaged head, and a sunset orange glow seemed to emanate from him and around her. Her lightly tanned skin appeared sweat-drenched, what Loki could see of her white robe clinging to her arm and hip. Soft whimpers escaped from the patient, sounding strangled as if she tried her best to muffle them, suppress them. Finally, shaking, the healer dropped his hands, the glow instantly ending as the man stepped back. He shook his head. "I . . . I . . ." he panted from exertion, "I need to get Freyja. I cannot do this."

The man turned and hurried out the door, brushing past Loki in his haste. He glanced at the lithe brunet and said in a rush, "excuse me, Lopt. I've got to go find . . ." but his words were lost as he turned into another hallway.

Loki turned back to meet the patient's pain-filled golden-brown eyes.

"Lopt?" she asked, a tremor of pain in her voice. She looked to be around his own twenty years with fine features and strong athletic body. Around the edges of her bandages the skin had pulled tight and looked raw; it was apparent that the bandages had shifted during the healer's ministrations.

Stepping quickly to her side, Loki unwound the constricting linen, knowing the odd pull of it added to her pain. When he had exposed her head, he fought to keep the horror from his face. Her head, shoulders, and part of her face were eaten away, as from a flesh-eating disease. Gaping wounds adorned her and she lacked even a single tuft of hair. At least her wounds appeared to have been cleaned, but that seemed to have little effect.

Drawing a breath, smelling the raw, open wounds, blood, and a tinge of something acrid, the former prostitute murmured, "My name is Loki." Noticing healing supplies on the bedside table, including two vast basins of bandages treated with some form of ointment, Loki reached for some of the fresh linens to redo her dressing. "Some call me Lopt, however," he added as a way to continue the conversation and perhaps distract her from her pain a little.

"You were attacked in _The House of Laufey_?" she asked, hands clenching and unclenching on her bed sheets.

Surprise coursed through the man and he looked at her with a slight frown, ice green eyes studying golden brown in an attempt to discern her thoughts, her memories. "You aren't one of the priestesses," he finally responded, curiosity rising. He sank next to her on the bed to better tend her wounds. "Are you also from the _House_?"

Her eyes met his and she answered in a breathy, pained murmur. "Recently. I had yet to meet Laufey for my primary meeting, but I have been there a month."

A frown crept over Loki's face. "You met him tonight." There was no question in his words. "A worse time could hardly have been arranged by the Norns. He would be in a rage after my attack." _'Not to mention my removal from his clutches,'_ Loki thought.

"Yes," she replied softly. "After Donar's master came for him, Laufey sent for Heartha. Very shortly after, he sent for me and another woman . . . I didn't catch her name." She never wavered in her eye contact with Loki. He found he appreciated her straight-forward manner. "When none of us could answer where you had been taken, he threw a decanter of what looked like dark red wine at us . . . it wasn't wine."

"Acid," Loki hissed, his eyes going to her raw bleeding head.

She plucked at the sheet and continued in a whisper of pain, "I had turned my back, so I was . . . fortunate. The other women were not as lucky." Again her hand seemed to spasm on the sheet, and Loki took it in both of his, wishing he could end the suffering his parent had caused this unknown slave.

Recalling how Frigga's touch had soothed him while he'd been sick in the courtyard, Loki took a deep breath and lifted his other hand to gently cup the back of this woman's neck, the only part that was undamaged and most likely because she'd had a thick braid of hair blocking the hit. He concentrated on massaging gently, in the relaxing, non-sexual way he'd been instructed in so many years ago, before every caress had become foreplay and every word an innuendo. Feeling a warmth in his hand, humming up his arm, Loki let his eyes close, unaware of the soft green glow beginning in his palm. The sound of the woman's muffled whimpers of pain, which she'd obviously been fighting, eased off and Loki smiled. He continued to caress her neck, releasing her hand to begin tracing his finger in her palm in a mindless pattern.

Softly the whisper of a long skirt or robe came across the room, but Loki ignored it. His parent had hurt this woman severely, and he intended to ease that hurt. A gentle hand cupped over his elbow and another covered the hand he kept at the patient's neck. Calmly, in a voice of remembered joy and peace, a woman murmured "Feel her pain, _Ast_. Draw it into your hand. Let it flow around your arm and weave it into comfort. That's right. Keep weaving." Pain began to race up Loki's arm, but a warmth flowed through his elbow and down to his hand, helping him to control the rising agony, transforming it slowly until it felt cool instead of fiery, soothing instead of roiling.

A gasp from the injured woman broke his concentration and intense exhaustion filled Loki, pulling his arm down like leaded weight. He ached in his back and shoulders, and his head throbbed . . . and he felt nauseous once again. Blinking, biting back a groan, he turned to see Frigga smiling at him, bent over in what seemed to be an uncomfortable position, arms still encircling him.

Freyja and the male healer from earlier stood just inside the doorway.

Frigga nodded and straightened, tired lines on her regal, beautiful face. "You have a strong connection with _seidr_ , Loki."

" _Seidr_?" he asked then snapped his mouth shut to hold back the wave of sick rising in his throat. Eyes widening, he looked up at the Allmother almost desperately, covering his mouth with a shaking hand, not wanting a repeat of earlier.

Apparently she understood as she grabbed a basin, emptied the treated linen on the bed, and thrust it gently into Loki's hands. He leaned over it but continued to fight the nausea. As he regained control, Frigga stroked his hair, glancing at the woman on the bed. Finally the queen spoke. "I'll walk you back to your room, Loki, so we can let Lady Sif rest."

Leaning heavily into Frigga, Loki glanced at the woman on the bed, Sif, who watched them with relief in her gold-brown eyes. She mouthed the words "thank you," and he smiled wearily in return before letting the queen aid him in standing. The Allmother guided him past Freyja and the healer, into the cool darkened hallway. Loki barely looked at the pair, too drained to really care about more than curling up in Thor's arms and sleeping the rest of the night.

xxx

It had been a week since he had come to live at the palace: a week of whirlwind confusion, too many faces, too little privacy, and too much everything else. Loki, as nude as his day of birthing except a thin leather belt with dagger, pushed away from the jade-trimmed vanity in his shared dressing chamber and strode to the wide balcony overlooking the vast palace grounds; he missed his ocean perch. The only time he felt truly at peace was at night in the arms of his mate . . . and that still felt uncertain, forbidden.

A large hand touching his shoulder had Loki whirling suddenly, heart racing, a scream in his throat. One graceful hand shot down to clasp the hilt of the dagger at his left hip. Green eyes wide, he frantically searched the handsome, troubled, nude man before him before allowing himself to relax. "Thor," he breathed out then closed his eyes, lay his forehead on that strong chest, and sighed, feeling his mate's arms circle around him protectively. _'Damn.'_ Loki felt like a coward after such frights, always jumping at ghostly images of Tyr reaching for him, grabbing him. With a soft sob, Loki wrapped his arms tightly around Thor and held on as if his life depended on the strong, steady man; his sanity certainly did.

The large, calloused hand carding through his curls calmed him, as did the murmuring voice of his lover. "I am here, little one. You are safe with me." A week of heightened awareness, of startling at the slightest unknown movement or unfamiliar sound . . . a week of jangled nerves and little peace . . . and still Thor remained patient. Though they both were comfortable in little to no clothing due to their upbringing as prostitute and gladiator and so left nothing to the imagination as they walked their own chambers, the pair had not been having sex.

Loki lifted his face, meeting Thor's summer sky eyes with his own winter ice gaze. "I perhaps should have stayed in the temple after all, I think," he said, not meaning it but not taking back the words. "I find I do not trust people."

No laughter or disappointment met those words. Rather, Thor nodded as if he understood. He stroked Loki's dark curls again and said, in his matter-of-fact way, "you are used to only two at a time, not the tens and hundreds here. If you wish, little one, we can go back."

Drawing a deep breath, filling his lungs with the comforting scent of Thor, Loki shook his head and straightened, once more the controlled, almost aloof man he often presented in public. "No. Our place is here. Where else could you learn to be king, idiot?" No rancor tinged the derogatory; by now both had accepted that Loki would always use such terms for Thor, just as Thor would always call Loki _'little one'_ , despite only three fourths of an inch difference in height . . . Loki's lithe body was perhaps what had the bulkier, former gladiator seeing him as small, in need of protection. Sometimes Loki didn't even mind.

Trying to bring normalcy back to the day, knowing nothing was normal, Loki strode back to his vanity and sank onto the cushioned seat, once more brushing his shoulder-length raven hair. He looked at Thor in the mirror and sighed, watching the man's every move, comparing and finding the differences between his lover and that other blond gladiator he had spied in a broken mirror not long ago. It helped to catalog the many, many differences he found: height, muscle mass, skin tone, hair and eye shading . . . Thor was by far the better specimen.

"When is the trial set?" he asked, knowing the answer but needing the reassurance that his rapist would be dealt with soon. Loki noticed his hand shaking and so lowered the brush to the gleaming vanity top, breathing deeply.

Thor walked over to their shared wardrobe room and looked inside among the numerous outfits created for them so quickly by the palace tailors and seamstresses. The oddity of sharing a room had yet to wane, though most often Loki found it a relief to turn and see he was not alone . . . never alone. "Directly after noon," Thor replied from the other room before re-emerging with a red tunic and dark blue trousers, gold trimming the outfit in a mark of Thor's rank of second prince to Asgard.

Loki turned from the mirror to watch Thor slide into the trousers, neglecting the small cloths he complained made it hard to breath. The trousers were soft enough not to chafe the man's groin, and Loki hardly minded the idea that there would be one less barrier between them should he choose to touch his mate's beautifully sculpted body.

They had not mated since the temple, as Loki was often sick at random times during the day. He had yet to see the palace healers for it, knowing he had a slew of reasons for the nausea and vomiting: withdrawal from the incorrectly administered Alpha inhibitors, stress and fear, and even the fact that he might well be breeding, though the healers and even the High Priestess Freyja worried that with the past eleven years of incorrect inhibitor, his heats might never produce children. In effect, Laufey might have neutered his Omega son, whether by design or accident. At least the bonding and knotting had ended the unbearable heat; Loki would take the small comfort of that.

Placing a hand over his flat, toned abdomen at the thought of breeding, capable or not, Loki sighed. He'd never thought to have children and now, with the possibility, came the wrenching realization that he might never give to Thor what he suddenly longed to: a child of their own.

Softly, Loki asked "and what of Laufey? Have they found him yet?"

"No," Thor squatted down and placed a hand over Loki's, looking him in the eyes, all seriousness and concern. For a man of such bulk and strength, he moved like a cat at times; a truly unnerving ability in the strong warrior. "But the guards who searched for us now look for him. I trust Fandral and Hogun to track him down."

Thor reached over and cupped the side of Loki's face and leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips. He pulled back, as if reluctant, and smiled his sunny beaming grin that so lit up a room. "Come, Loki, we have a meal to eat before we put that bilgesnipe away for good." Thor stood, apparently unaware that the mention of food had Loki's stomach roiling in protest.

Rising and walked gracefully to the large clothing room, Loki's eyes barely registered the array of beautiful fabrics and clever designs. His mind was too taken with his morose thoughts. When the inhibitors totally dissipated from his system, the healers could test him for whatever damage was left behind. Then, Loki would know just how much Laufey had hurt him . . . and his dark suspicions would in all probability be confirmed. He knew what he'd tell Thor on that day; he'd practiced the words a hundred times in his head already. He would gently tell his mate that there would be no children, but he would grant Thor the right to find a secondary mate, one which could birth the children Thor would need to carry on the line of Bor. And Loki would do his best not to show how much it hurt to see his lover in a woman's arms or hear the cry of a child he could never bear.

Blindly reaching out, Loki grabbed the first outfit that came to hand. It was an emerald green tunic that reached his thighs matched with cadet grey trousers. Like Thor, Loki eschewed the use of undergarments, merely slipping into the outfit and finding matching green stockings to wear under his dark grey boots. When ready he turned to Thor and offered a grim smile, knowing it was the closest he could get to anything resembling happiness with the weight on his shoulders and heart. It seemed the Norns were always taunting him to snatch things away once he realized he could have them.

Walking over to Loki, Thor offered him his sunny smile and slid his arms around the leaner man's waist. Kissing him again, he almost purred when Loki chose to lean into the embrace. "After the trial, if you wish, Mother has offered to give us a lesson in _seidr_."

Green eyes widening, Loki studied Thor's eyes for teasing, though the large man was not one to joke about such a subject dear to Loki's heart as education. Loki had been longing to learn how to control that mystical energy flowing through and around him, ever since he had blindly used it to aid in Lady Sif's healing. He had not gotten the chance to repeat such actions, draining as they had been, and the promise of working with someone as skilled and caring as Frigga tugged Loki's halfhearted smile into a full grin.

"Then what are we waiting for, idiot? Let us go so we may learn the sooner." Loki pulled from Thor's embrace and ducked around him, listening to Thor's rumbling laugh. Loki continued smiling as he listened to Thor pull on his boots in order to follow down the wide hallway.

Fortunately, there was no banquet set for the day's noon meal. Rather each of the small group of diners was served individually by deferential servants. While Thor ate meat and bread with a large side of vegetables, Loki asked for plain toasted bread wafers and weak tea. He had found over the past few days that this meal bothered him least when the nausea struck. Conversation remained light among those in the room, gathered almost intimately at one end of the large raised dais on which the royal table sat. All in all, a rather pleasant meal, though Loki was relieved when it ended and the remnants of food removed, leaving only the vague lingering odors of what had been consumed.

As Odin, the Allfather, stood, so did the rest of the group. "Well, let's get this sordid business over with," Odin rumbled and led them from the dining room to the opulent throne room. Unlike that mainly empty dining chamber, this room was particularly crowded. Courtiers, nobles, and servants lined the walls and filled the space along the center aisle. Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Loki made their way up to the royal dais where Odin sank onto his throne with an easy grace born of a thousand years of ruling.

"Bring the slave in," Odin intoned.

Two guards in full regalia, green armored outfits and golden, horned helmets, strode in with Tyr shackled heavily between them. The prisoner had chains on his wrists, bound to his waist, and on his feet, hobbling him. He also had a sturdy, heavy iron collar around his neck, with another chain leading from the collar to the waist iron. Tyr was effectively being treated as if he were one of the more dangerous criminals kept in the dungeons.

Loki stiffened and felt Thor's strong hand on his lower back, carefully caressing. Unwilling to meet Tyr's eyes, Loki merely stared at that painful looking collar. He stood, stiff and slightly trembling, waiting for the entire affair to just be over. He felt sick pushing at the light meal he'd eaten and wished he'd simply skipped luncheon.

"The gladiator known as Tyr, slave of Thor Odinson, also known as Vidar Gridjarson," Odin intoned in a deep, detached manner. "You stand before the Allmother accused of rape on an imprisoned Omega in first heat. Do you have anything to say in your defense?"

Shock raced over Tyr's face and he shook his head. "I was told he was a Gamma! No one ever said anything about an Omega!"

Odin raised one eyebrow in what could almost be called condescending disbelief. "And thus, because you thought he was a Gamma, you raped him?" A hint of disgust threaded through Odin's reverberating tones.

"No!" Tyr shook his head, chains rattling heavily and iron collar biting into his thick neck. "Not rape, your majesty! He was a prostitute. My master paid for his use. I did nothing but rut with him . . ."

Loki covered his mouth as the bile rose, turning from the sight of the pale, inferior version of Thor. The real Thor pulled Loki into his arms and murmured soothing words into his ear as a distinct sound of whispering came from those observing. Lifting one hand, Odin brought the talking to a stop and pinned Tyr with his unforgiving gaze. Tyr fell silent.

Frigga stepped forward and asked, in an equally controlled voice, "and did the prostitute consent to sex?"

Apparently hoping the Allmother would be sympathetic due to her feminine gender, the prisoner turned towards her, lifting his weighted hands in a plea. "It's his job, your majesty. How can he refuse his job?"

Lifting a hand to keep the court silent, Frigga coldly stated, "even a prostitute has the right of refusal. Even a slave has the right to refuse work, punishment to be decided by the owner of the debt, not the customer or observer of the defiance. I ask once more, did the prostitute consent to the sex?"

"He was begging for it, your majesty." Tyr answered in a slightly shaking voice.

"Before or after his heat began?" Frigga asked and another ripple of noise washed over the court, silenced once more by Odin's glare.

Tyr shook his head. "I did not know he went into heat, your majesty. I thought he was a Gamma with no heats."

"Very well. And do you have a statement to make pertaining to the injuries he received at your hands? The glass cuts? The head injury?"

Unable to turn, not wanting to even see the man who'd attacked him, Loki kept his face buried in Thor's chest, breathing the scent of his mate and willing his heart to stop racing and his nausea to ebb. He did not want to vomit in the throne room before the court.

Clearing his throat, Tyr's voice trembled noticeably as he said "uh . . . well . . . some people like it rough. And after a couple thrusts, he was begging, so, I . . ."

"After a couple of thrusts?" Frigga asked, still coldly.

Tyr stopped talking, looking around the room as if searching for help.

Finally, Frigga's voice came again, gently this time. "Prince Loki, do you wish to give a statement?"

"Prince?" Tyr yelped to be silenced by a hard tug on his neck chain by one of the guards.

Taking a breath, Loki stood and turned, glad that Thor did not remove his hand. Clasping his left hand over his abdomen, in an unconsciously protective gesture, Loki took two shaking steps forward. He feared his voice would be barely audible, but when he spoke, it was clear, cold, and well modulated. "Yes, I would," he said, eyes falling inadvertently on Tyr who paled upon recognizing him. A surge of power shot through Loki, bolstering him as he continued his claim.

"As I was imprisoned in a brothel, the brothel keeper labeled me a Gamma in order not to be caught keeping me there, thus no customer would have been told of my Omega nature," He swallowed as the bile threatened again, right hand going to his mouth. Concentrating, breathing slowly, Loki lifted his hand, grateful that Frigga seemed to understand and give him time to compose himself. Lowering his hand, Loki said "I was going into my first heat when the customer known as Tyr was assigned to me. I allowed him to touch me, but when he . . . breached me, I protested . . . vehemently." Finally, Loki dropped his glare on Tyr, wishing he could shrivel the man with his venomous look.

"He told me to scream because _he_ liked it. And when I began to struggle, he slammed my head against a mirror on the wall. Then he continued his rutting, holding me against the broken glass. I do not know when my struggles turned to acceptance, I only know I was overwhelmed with my heat and could no longer protest or defend myself." Humiliation welled up at having to rehash this in front of these strangers. Loki straightened his back and shoulders, head high, and claimed coldly. "The man known as Tyr savagely raped me, Allmother, and caused me four days of hellish heat fever afterwards until my bondmate was found and tended me."

Tyr stammered as if he wished to protest, but the Allfather raised his hand. His glare brought Tyr to silence. "And how do you wish to counter this claim, Tyr?" With a gesture of his other hand, Odin signaled Loki to walk forward.

Unwilling to leave his mate, but knowing he had to go through the humiliation and terror of this ordeal, Loki took a deep breath and stepped up in front of Odin. He pushed his hair from his forehead, displaying the long, freshly healed scar that he had been assured might fade in time. Without being instructed, for surely they would never ask it of him, Loki stripped his tunic off, dropping it to the floor. Stunned eyes followed his every graceful movement as he unlaced his trousers and let them fall to his feet, revealing quite eloquently the fresh scars over his arms, chest, thighs, and genitalia. There was no doubt just how injured he had been from the attack, the trauma he accused this prisoner of inflicting on him.

Tyr passed out and Loki wanted to scream and spit. _'The fucking coward passed out!'_ he grit his teeth and glared at the inert body on the floor, dangling from heavy chains still held in the guards' hands. To add one last vindictive insult, Loki said quite clearly, "and as the _seidr_ cannot be used until the poisons from captivity are leeched from my system, it is unclear if I am forced to bear my rapist's child."

The room roared in anger and shock and it was all Odin could do to regain control. The guards had to protectively lay down over the body of the unconscious prisoner, protecting him from those nearby who wanted to hurt him as the rare Omega had been injured. Loki merely turned, finding Thor's arms encircling him, lifting him, and carrying him from the room out a back entrance. Loki cried and shuddered and tried not to vomit as the noise behind them died down.


	14. Trials and Results

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to Thor while Loki tries to recover . . .

Thor held his trembling mate close as he quickly made his way back to their suite. Pride warred with concern as he thought of the bravery it would have taken Loki to show his blemished self to the court. Loki, Thor had come to realize over the past week, was a rather vain man with a tendency to doubt himself due to recent events. In time, Thor hoped to erase the self-doubt so he might again hold the beautiful, commanding Loki he had first spied in the brothel.

In their chambers, Thor lay Loki on the large bed. Soaking a cloth in lightly scented water, Thor pressed it to the back of Loki's neck. His mate merely sighed and closed his vibrant green eyes, a troubled look on his beautiful face. The brunet's hand stroked the back of Thor's in a gesture of gratitude, and Thor responded with a gentle kiss to those sweet lips.

Finally, the large blond straightened and quickly removed Loki's boots and stockings. He slipped the grey trousers from the resting man, tossing them onto the floor by the bed. Softly kissing Loki's lips again, Thor slid the dagger from Loki's belt and placed it on the nightstand within easy reach. Then Thor stepped back. He smiled at the sight of his lover stretched almost decadently over the bed covers, wearing only a slim leather belt around his lean hips.

Feeling his cock begin to rise at the gloriously wanton sight, knowing Loki was yet again in no condition to mate, Thor turned and strode from the room. In the vast corridor, he eased his genitalia into a slightly more comfortable position then headed back to court.

He hoped they would be able to revive Tyr quickly. As long as that man . . . his half brother . . . remained unconscious the trial could not continue. Thor had a right, as Loki's bondmate, to represent his lover in the court, and he had already waived his right to represent his slave. As far as Thor was concerned, brother or not, Tyr deserved death. And, once the trauma of the trial had ended, Frigga hoped she would be able to use the soul forge or even _seidr_ to determine Loki's health - - at least that was what she'd said after last evening's meal.

Entering by the back door, Thor felt a surge of vindictive pleasure to note that Tyr had indeed awakened. The man sat on the floor in a heap of heavy chains, his guards now numbering four and heavily armed. _'I suppose they did not think to be guarding_ his _life this day,'_ Thor thought as he stopped on a level with Odin's throne. Quite loudly, the former gladiator called out "Prince Loki is ill and cannot further testify. I, Prince Thor Odinson, mate to Loki, will testify on his behalf, if it pleases the Allmother." Folding an arm over his chest, Thor bowed formally toward his mother. He enjoyed the sudden shock in Tyr's eyes at the revelation of Thor's much higher rank than mere gladiator.

Frigga nodded with a serious look in her eyes. "I accept the representation on behalf of your mate. We shall continue." Turning her stern gaze on the seated man, she asked "Do you wish to counter the evidence of the wounds Prince Loki presented us?"

Tyr looked up, the desperation of a cornered animal playing over his handsome face. He tried to speak and only a gurgling sound emerged from his throat. He tried again, this time able to make his vocal cords form the sounds he desired. "Allmother, he had such injuries before ever I touched him."

Anger rose in Thor at the blatant lie, seemingly echoed by a crash of thunder outside then a streak of bright lightning striking just beyond the palace. Thor was too incensed to find it odd that the light followed the sound rather than the natural order of light _before_ sound. "He lies," Thor boomed but Odin's loud "Hush!" silenced the younger man.

Gritting his teeth in order to contain himself, Thor bowed his head in respect. "Yes, Allfather. My apologies." Living with Loki had done more for his court manners than Fandral's repetitive lessons, it seemed.

The Allmother nodded once at Tyr, accepting his claim. "Prince Thor, can you present evidence to refute this statement?"

"Aye," he responded darkly, hands clenched into fists. "I saw Prince Loki not twenty-four hours before, and he had only one injury - - a knife wound to his right forearm."

His mother shook her head. "I am unable to accept this testimony. As the alleged victim's mate, it is suspect. Did anyone else see Prince Loki before or during the alleged attack?"

Thor's heart seized at that. He turned devastated eyes to the queen, unable to think of how to answer her. Loki hadn't discussed the attack with him, nor his schedule from the brothel, and so Thor had no idea what customers or witnesses might have seen Loki that morning. "I . . ." he began only to hear the welcome voice of Fandral from the crowd.

"I am witness, Allmother, to Prince Loki's injuries. Fresh glass cuts all over his front. I helped hold the prisoner after the attack. There were others present as well." Fandral, dressed gaily in vivid reds and blues strode forward to stop by the guards, ignoring Tyr's glare at him. " _The House of Laufey_ , the brothel where this occurred, employs guards. Among them the men Ingolf, Arvind, Gunne, and Hogun were present with me in the chambers, as was a visiting royal messenger by the name of Heimdall. The _House_ steward, Hertha, also was there, and she addressed the victim directly after his heat had started." Fandral bowed formally and added "Royal Guard Fandral, Allmother."

Frigga nodded and opened her mouth but another man stepped forward. He stood even over Thor's six foot two inches and his muscles bulged. A thick red beard and equally red hair made him look the more ferocious. "If it please the Allmother," he called. "I am Volstagg, temple guard, and I was present when they brought the victim in. He had already begun to slip into heat fever, which takes at least three hours in first heat. Also his wounds freely bled. They were fresh, your majesty, and only closed with the use of _seidr_ by the temple healers."

Holding up her hand to quiet the swelling tide of whispers, Frigga called, "are any of those mentioned in this room?"

Several men stepped forward from various areas of the crowd, but one, the red-haired Ingolf from the brothel, continued walking until he stopped beside Fandral. Dropping to one knee and bowing over his arm, Ingolf merely waited silently for acknowledgment.

"Yes," Frigga prompted.

Ingolf stood. "Please, Allmother, my name is Ingolf Rhineson. I have been working at _The House of Laufey_ since I was fifteen years of age. For much of that time Prince Loki was remanded to my care, first as a nursery-maid then as a guard. I fed him his breakfast that very morn, the day of the attack, and his only injury was a two day old stab wound of his right forearm, made with a quill sharpener." Ingolf's brown eyes turned up almost beseechingly to Frigga. "When Prince Loki was allegedly attacked, I understand that the first people at his rescue were the guard Hogun and the royal messenger Heimdall."

Tyr suddenly wailed out and pulled at his own blond hair, chains rattling in an echo of some macabre ghost tale. "I walked into the room, Allmother, and he told me he would be with me after he tended the mirror, which was already broken." No one interrupted this sudden revelation, and so the prisoner continued in a pleading, lost voice. "He appeared in perfect health, undressed, facing the mirror. I stripped in preparation and he laughed. He asked if I was eager for my next lesson. I saw he was slick, already ready for mating, and I slid my finger into him."

Thor growled, but Odin merely glared at him, causing his son to stifle his anger at this revelation.

Ignoring Thor's reaction, Tyr continued. "He agreed with my approach, Allmother. He said yes! So I thrust my manhood into him. That is when he started screaming and pulling away . . ."

Another, louder rumble of thunder shook the palace walls and Odin rose quickly to his feet. "Enough! We do not need further sordid details of your crimes. As you did not agree to a rough encounter before you began, his protests should have been headed." Slashing his arm through the air, Odin roared "will someone get my son out of this room before he destroys the palace!" He gestured to Thor, who could barely hear through the pounding in his ears.

Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun, who had been at the bottom step to the dais, launched forward and grabbed Thor with strong hands, pushing him to the back of the dais and through the door. He fought them hard, wanting to kill Tyr for daring to touch his mate, lost in the agony of what he had heard . . . what he now understood. Loki had thought he was encouraging _Thor_! He never would have let a stranger touch him on the arm, let alone so intimate a place as his passage. Tears streamed down Thor's cheeks, salty in his mouth, as he realized he was in part to blame for Loki's attack - - it had been for him that untouchable Loki had let his guard down. Once more lightning split the sky as dull thunder rumbled across the landscape.

"Damn! He's a weather controller!" Volstagg grunted, pushing Thor down to the cold, polished floor of the corridor. "I've never heard of an Alpha weather controller!"

"With _seidr_ anything is possible," remarked Hogun in a tight voice, his arm across Thor's neck to hold him as the bigger man struggled. "And the Allfather is strong in _seidre_. He must have passed it to his son."

Fandral panted as he tried to hold the much stronger Thor. He murmured "Relax now, Thor. Loki is safe. If you just stop fighting us we can let you up. You need to go to him."

"I cannot," Thor moaned and suddenly ceased struggling, overbalancing the bent over Volstagg and sending the big man staggering. "I did this to him . . ."

Not in the least unintelligent, Hogun seemed to grasp Thor's meaning immediately. "You did not," he said sternly, earning a doubtful glare from Thor. Hogun continued, "I believe he was already in heat before Tyr went to him. I had seen him before the noon appointment and he acted as if he was starting heat, though I ignored it since I had been assured he was a Gamma. When an Omega goes into heat, Alphas are stimulated by their pheromones and scent. If Loki had refused, that . . ." Hogun floundered for a word dire enough.

"Bilgesnipe?" Fandral suppled on a small chuckle.

"Yes," Hogun agreed. "That _bilgesnipe_ would have attacked him anyway."

Volstagg sank onto the hard, stone floor, eyeing Thor warily. "Perhaps the fact that you look alike helped your mate to produce enough slick that he was not permanently injured from the attack."

Thor froze. He turned horrified blue eyes on Volstagg. "Permanently?"

"Aye, Thor . . ." Volstagg answered without the pomp of titles and bows. "Without slick, Tyr would have torn him asunder and he might never have been able to mate comfortably." The large redhead bent his legs up at the knees and rested his arms on them. "Your similar appearance was, I think, a gift of the Norns . . . allowing your mate to prepare for entry."

With a huge sigh, Thor laid his face on the stone. The sound of thunder eased into a distant rumble. He let his mind rove over this new information and could not find fault with the temple guard's words. "You truly think he was better protected?"

"Certainly," Fandral said, tone reassuring. He offered a hand up to Volstagg and the big man grasped it, pulling to his feet. The royal guard then turned to Thor and reached down to help him off the floor.

The blond accepted the aid and stood slowly, eyeing the group of men with him. Finally he said, "Thank you, my friends, for your guidance. I would keep you close were I permitted." True, it was a snap judgement, but these men seemed to have helped Loki, and that meant Thor trusted them.

"Why wouldn't you be permitted?" asked Fandral, smiling widely. "You are allowed to have friends, Thor."

Thor tried to match Fandral's smile but found he could not. "I meant in the palace, where we might meet every day."

Hogun crossed his arms over his chest and said "That is not an impossible wish. We merely have to have occupation at the palace and our residency would be understood." The Vanir man studied Thor through serious dark eyes.

Suddenly Thor did smile, his sunny beam of delight. "All three of you are guard trained, are you not?"

Fandral laughed. "I am a royal guard already, and my rooms are down the hall from you, Thor, so aye, I am guard trained."

"And how," Thor turned his blue eyes on Fandral, "does one become a royal guard, my friend?"

"By royal appointment," Fandral grinned at his friend, who continued to return the grin.

With a nod, Thor claimed "than due to your protection and care of my mate, Prince Loki, I extend appointment of royal guard to you, Volstagg, and you, Hogun. Do you accept?"

"As easy as that?" queried Volstagg with a grin behind his thick beard.

A merry chuckle answered the large man and Fandral nodded. "As easy as that, my new comrade in arms. Welcome to service for the royal house . . . of course the appointments must be approved by the Allfather, and you will be tested in your abilities, but the Prince is allowed to appoint his own guards."

The small door leading to the back of the Throne Room dais opened and the golden-eyed, dark-skinned Heimdall strode out. He formally bowed over his arm to Thor. "Thor, the trial is over."

Shock coursed through Thor and he shook his head. "No! I didn't get to finish testifying for Loki!" He moved to walk around Heimdall, but the other man stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"Ingolf took the representation of Prince Loki in your stead. Sentence is passed." The dark warrior paused a moment then asked "would you hear it, my prince?"

Thor nodded, still frowning. "Yes, please. I will need to tell it to Loki and only hope it is strong enough. The man deserves little mercy." Large hands clenching, Thor kept his summer blue eyes trained on Heimdall's golden ones.

The messenger spoke, his tone detached but his eyes glittering. "For the crime of rape, his is found guilty. For knowingly rutting with an Omega unsanctioned, he is acquitted." When Thor opened his mouth to protest, Heimdall said "on evidence presented by Prince Loki concerning the hidden nature of his . . . nature." The dark man watched as Thor bitterly nodded his acceptance then Heimdall continued once more. "For abuse of a prostitute, guilty. For assault, guilty. For ignoring the Right of Refusal, guilty. And so his sentence is to remain a prisoner in the dungeons for the rest of his life, as he is considered too dangerous for release into a debt slavery. He is to remain a slave in name only, belonging now to Prince Loki of Asgard. Further, he is to be stripped of any name except that which he sold himself into, Tyr the gladiator, and has forfeit any present, past, or future claims to the name Odinson or the blood of Bor. If he shows further signs of violence, he is to be completely neutered." Heimdall bowed over his arm once more.

Slowly, Thor nodded his understanding. "I will tell Loki. If you excuse me, my friends," and he turned to hurry down the corridor, leaving the two new royal guards staring after him while Fandral grinned in relieved amusement. Thor did not feel guilty for deserting Volstagg or Hogun; he knew Fandral could show them how to get on.

When Thor opened the door to his shared suite, he saw immediately that Loki was not in the bed. Worry coursed through him and he strode inside, looking around anxiously for his unwell mate. "Loki?" He called only to spin around when he heard Loki's voice come in from the balcony.

"I am here, Thor." He sounded tired and that drew Thor hurrying to the side of the lovely brunet.

"You should be in bed, little one." The big blond reached out and touched Loki's dark curls, studying his face in concern.

The raven-haired man shook his head but did not pull away from his mate. "I feel better, Thor." He met Thor's eyes directly and asked in a low voice, "when is the trial to resume?"

With a sunny smile, Thor embraced Loki quickly, letting him go in mere seconds. "It is done. Tyr has been sentenced." He smiled at the look of surprise on Loki's face. Before he could be asked, Thor added, "Tyr isn't allowed to use any freeman's name anymore. He's also in the dungeons for life . . . and now you own his contract."

Loki inhaled sharply then slid his arms around Thor, burying his face in the large, muscled chest. Wrapping his arms around Loki securely, Thor continued to smile. He carded his fingers through the soft raven locks. "He cannot hurt anyone again, little one. You are safe."

A knock on the door brought both men in from the balcony, Loki reaching for an emerald green robe. Frigga walked in with a soft smile. She held her hand out for Loki to take, which he did, returning her smile.

"Now that the stress of the trial is done, Lady Eir wishes to see you again. She thinks a week may have been long enough to leech the toxins from your system, Loki." Frigga began to guide Loki from the suite, Thor trailing behind.

But Thor worried. He recalled the day Loki arrived at the palace. Lady Eir had come with him from the temple, newly reassigned as the palace didn't have a healer on staff who knew how to deal with an Omega. When Loki had been lain in the soul forge, a black writhing mass had been displayed in his womb, as well as stretching tendrils throughout his blood. Lady Eir had claimed it to be the toxins left from the wrong inhibitors Loki had been taking. She had talked to Loki privately for some time after, but the brunet did not share her words with his mate. Thor wondered if the toxins had perhaps killed their child . . . or even prevented one from being created. The idea of children, especially with his lovely mate, secretly pleased Thor. He hoped the toxins had not permanently taken such a joy from them. He didn't know if Loki even wanted to breed, actually, and that, too, worried him.

Inside the healer hall, Frigga aided Loki to lie on the table of the soul forge. Thor reached over and twined fingers with Loki, trying to offer reassurance and strength to his mate for the coming ordeal. Loki's ice green eyes met Thor's summer blue, and they remained locked in silent communion as Lady Eir, a woman perhaps the queen's age with gentle features and sharp eyes, began the machine. It silently scanned Loki's form, displaying a light construct rendition of the man on the table.

Gone were the black tendrils of toxin and the swirling pool of poison; however, there was still a mass inside Loki's womb. Reminded of his mother's tale of how he had been found to share a womb with a life-threatening tumor, Thor felt anguish rearing up; was it possible Loki had such a condition? Thor glanced over briefly, his hand tightening on Loki's, drawing the other man to break eye contact as well. As they both stared at the incomprehensible readings, Lady Eir frowned and made a low noise in her throat. Thor felt his worry turn to heartache at the sound.

Clearing his throat, Thor softly asked, "what does it mean, Lady Eir?"

She ran her hands carefully through the image, checking colors and readings before finally turning her head to face the princes. "Mean? It means the toxins have left his body and he is registering as perfectly healthy."

"I meant the mass, Lady Eir. What does that mean?" Thor asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

Lady Eir looked from Thor to Loki then back to Thor and frowned. "Why it means Prince Loki is pregnant," she answered.

Thor felt as if his heart stopped.


	15. She Reveals Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki . . .

Grasping Thor's hand, Loki drew his breath in sharply. He couldn't have heard correctly, so he asked in a faint voice, "Pregnant? Are . . . are you . . . you are making a cruel jest, woman!" His eyes narrowed as he glared at Lady Eir. "The Priestess Freyja said the toxins had neutered me."

Thor hissed, "what? Why didn't you say?" The blond moved a hand under Loki's chin, turning his head up to meet those beautiful summer blue eyes.

Lady Eir interrupted them, her voice nearly hauty in offense. "I never jest, Prince Loki. You _are_ with child."

Loki didn't know how to respond so he snapped his mouth closed, pulled his chin from Thor's grasp, and turned to bury his face in the man's muscular arm. He felt someone, Frigga he supposed, pet his hair, soothing him. Confusion, fear, anger, and hope warred inside, bringing the nausea back to the fore.

A little gentler, Lady Eir sighed and added, "You are a week along, my prince, too soon to identify gender or genetics."

His head snapped up at that and he could not hide the horror in his eyes. "Genetics?"

"Yes," the healer's voice held a wealth of disapproval. _'With me? As if I could control whether my mate or that . . .'_ he pushed the thought of Tyr away. Lady Eir continued, "You were mated numerous times in your heat and sometimes even though breeding occurs, the heat might take a day or two to dissipate. Thus it is uncertain who the sire is at this time."

At that Loki felt his insides clench and he had to fight his nausea at the sudden idea of not even knowing his child's father - - he couldn't recall any of the men from his heat. He had vague images of the need easing once in a while but could probably not identify which Alphas had actually serviced him. They could be people he saw every day, and he doubted the blur from heat fever would ever clear enough. Loki shuddered. _'How many men fucked me when I was senseless?'_ he wondered.

Anger rising at the new information, though he had known somewhere inside that Thor hadn't been the only one - - just the _right_ one, Loki steadied his voice and asked, "Who determined I needed so many . . . partners? Ingolf could have told you to get Thor and even where to find him."

The healer nodded, actually looking as if she felt a similar anger to her patient's, drawing surprise from Loki. "The high priestess Freyja determined which mates to present according to the Omega Rites . . ."

"And the Omega Rites cover rape as well as population decreases?" Loki demanded, eyes emerald chips of hardness, his tone dripping in disbelief.

Tone equally bitter, Lady Eir responded "you are the first case of a reported Omega rape since the laws were changed, my prince. No contingency exists." She met his ice green eyes steadily with her own hazel, and he realized she was on his side in this. "During the Omega Rites, if an Alpha does not breed an Omega, another Alpha is presented . . . Alphas don't always breed when mating. Priestess Freyja, however, was desperate to end your heat fever and so did not wait to see if you had bred after any of her choices." Finally the woman dropped her voice to a displeased murmur. "A Beta doesn't always understand an Omega's heat."

Understanding dawned and Loki blinked slowly, processing the sudden thought that Lady Eir was an Omega or at least had been bonded with one. He carefully asked "are you bonded, my lady?"

She looked at him and pressed her lips together then shook her head once. "No. And I never intend to be, thank you."

Frigga stroked Loki's hair again as he hesitantly placed his free hand over his still flat abdomen. "We will look into changes for the law, _Ast_ ," she softly reassured him. He didn't break eye contact with the healer, though.

Thor laid his large hand over Loki's and leaned closer, kissing his neck, drawing an appreciative murmur from Loki; his lover seemed to know how to touch him, to at least soothe him. "Is it so bad to bear my child, little one?"

 _'And then he messes it right back up,'_ Loki sighed. He turned incredulous eyes up to the big blond warrior. "Did you not understand?" he pronounced slowly. "The child . . ."

But Thor cut him off, claiming "is mine . . . ours."

Pain of a deeper sort suddenly filled Loki's heart as he tried to make his mate understand. He asked, "Thor, have you had sex with anyone else?"

A slight flush creeping up her neck, Lady Eir turned back to the light construct making herself busy while Frigga frowned softly and stayed quiet.

The larger man looked surprised. "No! Of course not, Loki . . ."

He wanted to say so much to the blond warrior but merely nodded and looked down at the hands over his abdomen. Finally, slowly, he said, "Thor, I recall the beginning of the attack, a lot of confusion and fever and need, then I woke in your arms."

Thor watched him with serious summer sky eyes. Finally, without looking away, he asked "Lady Eir, why is Loki always getting sick?"

Unsure where that came into play, Loki's brow creased and his lips pursed. He opened his mouth, but the healer spoke before he could.

"Stress mostly," she turned her watchful eyes on the brunet though she answered the blond. "He's been very stressed this past two weeks. He might get ill due to his body adjusting to pregnancy, but male Omegas don't often get this ill without a great deal of tension, stress, or even a rare tissue growth condition which the prince shows no sign of having. Again," her eyes now met Loki's ice green ones and she stressed each word, "Prince Loki is perfectly physically healthy. He needs relaxation and a feeling of security, and he should begin to feel better." Looking over at Thor again, she murmured, "actually, female Omegas get quite ill during pregnancy most times, but males have at least that one thing easier. Perhaps to make up for the difficulty of childbirth later."

Loki shot her a glare. He suddenly had numerous pressing questions about the things she'd mentioned, none of which made him feel less stressed in the least. "Yes, that'll be so very easy to . . ."

" _Ast_ ," Frigga said, silencing him. She smiled and reached over to stroke his cheek. "With the trial over, perhaps you can find something you enjoy? We have a full library, extensive stable, and large, well-stocked training area. And later this eve, I can start your _seidr_ training if you wish."

Green eyes widening momentarily, Loki smiled suddenly. "All of it sounds good, Mother, though I have yet to learn to ride and I have never trained with weapons aside a small dagger." Realizing what he'd called the queen, Loki drew in a sharp breath, but relaxed when her smile widened in apparent delight. "I think the library," he decided.

"Or I could give you a massage," Thor offered, drawing surprised looks from the other three. Without waiting for Loki to respond, his mate scooped him up and rumbled, "Good noon, Mother . . . Lady Eir," and carried the lighter man from the healer hall.

"Thor!" Loki felt amusement war with indignation. "What . . ." but he fell silent, unsure just what he wanted to say.

The other man smiled and stole a quick kiss as he carried Loki down the corridor. "I intend to give you a good memory, little one." Suddenly, Thor leered at him.

Loki broke into laughter, "Idiot!" He laced one hand behind Thor's neck, tangling in the long blond locks, and tugged him into a heated kiss. Thor stumbled but managed to stay upright and not drop Loki as they continued towards their chambers.

At the door of the suite, Thor suddenly stopped, appearing at a loss. The pair studied the solid door then turned their heads to look at one another. Loki rolled his eyes. "I am astounded by your disability with logistics, Thor," but he wrapped an arm around Thor's neck for support and reached out the other hand to open the door. A wide grin crossed his lover's face and the large man proceeded into their shared rooms, still easily carrying the lighter Loki.

Once inside, Thor gently lowered Loki to the bed, sealing his lips over the other man's in a hungry kiss. Ignoring the still open door, Loki wound his arms around Thor's neck, returning the kisses. He brought one thigh up to rub against Thor's growing erection, eliciting a deep moan from the larger man. Thor deftly unbelted Loki's robe and slide it from his creamy shoulders, kissing him as he worked. The blond moved his mouth lower to taste Loki's throat and shoulders, pushing the robe lower so that it trapped Loki's arms in silk.

With a groan, Loki let his head fall back, enjoying his mate's ministrations. Able to look at Thor's beautiful face, mischief in those blue eyes, Loki felt as secure and unthreatened as Lady Eir had insisted he be treated. Only when he couldn't verify who was loving him did the fear threaten to overwhelm. For the moment, fear was the furthest thing from the brunet's mind; he let Thor worship his body, unable to grab his mate due to the soft restraint of the robe around his arms, but enjoying the hot slide of Thor's mouth too much to protest.

As Thor's mouth pressed kisses down Loki's breastbone, Loki felt his breath come in rasping pants. His cock filled and hardened and he lifted his hips to rub himself against Thor's answering erection. Thor sucked in a deep breath, the air hissing over Loki's chest. Loki whimpered and bucked again. "Thor, keep going . . ."

"Shall I close the door, then, or is this a free showing?" Fandral's laughing voice drew the attention of both men, Thor flushing bright red as Loki narrowed his ice green eyes in annoyance. At their looks, the man lifted both hands, still grinning. "Actually, it's time for supper. And if Loki's up to eating, I've been told to inform you that there'll be a lemon custard for dessert. An old friend of his has been asked to dine with us."

Letting out a groan, feeling his erection wilt with every word, Loki finally sighed and pulled at his arms. Thor let him up and Loki slipped the robe back over his shoulders, turning to look at Fandral. "I will let you live, but only because the news has put me in a generous mood. Now leave, Fandral . . . and shut the door." He pulled the robe closed as Fandral gave one last chuckle and backed from the room, drawing the door shut behind him. Loki let his head fall back, eyes closing. "The one time I do not feel sick . . ." he shook his head. Looking at Thor, he was surprised to find the man still grinning. "It amuses you to be thwarted yet again?" he asked in an almost cold tone.

Thor laughed and rose from the bed. "No, but I can wait. What _does_ amuse me is that you would give up sex for dessert." And the blond stepped over to their wardrobe room to select a change of clothes for dinner, chuckling the entire time.

Loki shook his head, rose, and began walking over to join Thor in the over-large room. Catching sight of himself in the free-standing full length mirror, he stopped and turned slightly. Letting the robe fall open once more, Loki stroked a hand over his still flat abdomen, a frown crossing his fine features. Could a tiny life really be growing there? He slid his hand over the soft skin, feeling the hard muscles underneath and wondered just how much room the infant had to grow in such a tight space.

The sight of a tall blond reflected in the mirror made Loki jump, reaching for his dagger. Then he drew a slow, careful breath and relaxed his hand on the weapon, meeting Thor's suddenly worried blue eyes. "I . . ."

"Will be haunted some time, little one," Thor crooned softly to him. He did not step closer but held out a long emerald tunic with matching trousers, made of soft, supple leather. "Perhaps you would consider wearing this? The color suits you well."

A smile chased away Loki's frown, lighting his eyes once more. With a small nod, Loki stepped over to his mate and took the offered clothing. He kissed Thor on the mouth, leaning into him and letting his hunger and gratitude show in that intimate gesture. Breaking off before the kiss could get out of hand, Loki slid his robe off his shoulders and let it slither to the floor, enjoying the way Thor's eyes followed the material, darkening in desire.

"Oh, like that?" Loki purred at Thor, watching as the man's trousers began to tent with renewed interest. With a laugh, Loki reached for his own trousers and pulled them on quickly, not wanting to torture his mate too much. The man had been extremely patient the last week after all. "Shirt?" he asked, and Thor blinked slowly before nodding and handing it over. Loki pulled the soft leather over his head and finished lacing up his outfit before going into the wardrobe room to find stockings and green boots. He could feel Thor watching his every move. "If you're really good, I'll feed you some of my custard," he offered and heard Thor's confused whimper. Glancing out of the room, Loki grinned. "I adore custard," he relayed in a breathless voice, eyes roving directly to Thor's crotch, which responded immediately to the Omega's tone.

Fortunately for Thor, Loki kept his hands to himself as they walked the corridors to the banquet hall, though the big Alpha seemed disappointed rather than relieved. Once in the banquet hall, Loki and Thor made their way to the royal dais. Loki hesitated a moment upon seeing who would be seated at his right then smiled and strode quickly over, leaving Thor to follow.

"Ingolf?" He breathed as the man stood from his chair. Ingolf's eyes trailed over Loki and he nodded once, a smile slowly forming. Loki continued to smile and gestured for the redhead to sit back down, joining his oldest friend. Studying Ingolf as much as the man studied him, Loki noticed a swelling along the older man's face, purple with a greenish tinge, marking it as perhaps a week old. The smile dropped from Loki's face. "Ingolf? You were struck?" He reached his hand up but Ingolf merely caught the delicate fingers in his meatier ones.

He pulled Loki's hand to his chest and merely offered a smile at the darker, younger man. "It heals well . . . my prince," he smiled wider. "I always felt you were special, Lopt. Prince of Asgard . . . it suits you well."

Loki rolled his eyes but smiled once more at the redhead, allowing the familiarity of their hands clasped together. "Yes, Laufey kept much from us. Though I have yet to find out just how he wound up with me when I was here and he at the temple." Sensing Thor slipping into the seat on his left, Loki turned and smiled at the larger man then spun back to Ingolf. "Have you met Prince Thor, my mate?"

The redhead bowed his shoulders towards Thor and straightened, grinning. "Not formally. Greetings, Prince Thor."

Thor rumbled pleasantly, "just Thor, please. Any friend of Loki is a friend of mine." And Thor settled in his chair, turning to his mother to give his mate time to converse with Ingolf.

With a soft sigh, Loki pulled Ingolf's hand towards his own chest, and leaned down to kiss the bruised knuckles. Surprise registered in the man's face at the unusual gesture for normally untouchable Loki. The brunet sighed and lifted his mouth, not meeting Ingolf's worried brown eyes. Rather, he spoke softly, "I thought Laufey would kill you when he found me gone. Lady Sif has said he threw acid at her as well as Hertha and another?" He finally raised worried eyes.

Ingolf nodded. "Aye, Lopt. Hertha and Runa no longer live, the Norns had mercy on them. The third woman, Sunniva, was sent to the healers. Who is Lady Sif?"

"Sunniva," Thor answered, having overheard the question. He smiled over at the guard. "I met her that last day and she used the name Sunniva to hide her true self." His smile dropped as he seemed to recall something. "You said she was hit with acid?"

"Yes," Loki growled. "Mother and I tried to help her with her pain. It will take much more than I could do to rid her of the wounds." Suddenly determined, knowing his earlier choice had been to go to the library, Loki knew what his new choice would be. He leaned over Thor to look straight at Frigga, calling loudly, "Mother?"

She turned and smiled at him, "Loki?"

"I wish to learn _seidr_ , mother. I would help . . . others." He stared straight into her gentle eyes and noted the look of pride rise up.

Frigga nodded. "Hold out your hand, whichever you favor."

Surprised that she would start right away, Loki obeyed, holding out his left hand. In truth, he was ambidextrious, but he tended to favor the left. Holding it as he saw her do, palm up, fingers slightly curled, Loki looked up. "Yes?"

Amused, Loki saw Thor hold out his right hand in imitation, getting in on this lesson without asking. A smile curled Loki's lips but he didn't dissuade the large man. During a storm at the temple, he had felt energy radiating from Thor and knew that his _seidr_ must be connected somehow to the weather. Loki just hoped the big idiot wouldn't produce a monsoon in the great hall and drown the diners awaiting Odin's arrival.

With a nod, Frigga said, "now feel the energy in the air. Do nothing but feel it caress over your hand, almost like breath. It might feel like fur or air or electricity even. But it will wrap around you." Her voice gentled as she reached over to wrap a hand under Thor's. "Everyone's _seidr_ is different, my son. It calls to different energies. You must find the energy that calls and learn to weave it.

A gentle green ribbon had already started in Loki's palm and slithered over his hand and wrist, weaving and dancing gently with a whisper almost as silk. It was reminiscent of Frigga's energy, though her's had been a lighter coloring. Thor, on the other hand, seemed to be crackling with yellow energy, sparks and golden streaks racing over his palm and singing the edges of his red tunic sleeve. The summer blue eyes widened as he stared at his palm in wonder and a little fear, it seemed.

A sudden loud thump on the table startled all three and their individual _seidr_ disappeared, the connection momentarily broken.

Looking over, Loki's eyes widened as much as Thor's had before. Odin stood there with several older guards. A large sword had been dropped none-too-lightly to the table and the guards were yet lowering a variety of other weapons to rest alongside the sword. Odin merely stood and watched patiently as the men unburdened themselves. Once the last weapon, a finely crafted dagger in a dark, unadorned sheath, had been settled, the guards withdrew to stand by the back wall at the ready. Odin nodded.

"Today, marks the first day we might attempt _seidr_ tests to determine if the man claiming to be Thor is my second son and true prince to Asgard." Murmurs of excitement raced around the room and Thor suddenly looked nervous, swallowing. Loki slid his left hand into Thor's right and watched the Allfather in curiosity. Odin nodded and continued, "if nothing happens, be warned, he will undergo two more tests. In three weeks time, if he has not passed a single one, we will ignore his claims of blood. However, if he should pass any one of the three tests, he will be revealed as my true son, child of Frigga, and in line to inherit my throne . . . should the elder prince, Baldur, never be found."

Quiet descended over the banquet hall and Odin turned to Thor. "Rise, he who claims the blood of Bor."

Squeezing Thor's hand gently, Loki looked into those worried summer sky eyes and nodded briefly. "You will do well, idiot. Just relax. You are who you think." And Loki let go of Thor's hand, allowing his mate to rise to his feet, standing his impressive six feet two inch height.

Thor turned to look at Odin, who nodded once, face set in serious lines, eyes watchful and detached. "State the name you would claim, sir."

Swallowing, Thor boomed out, a little too loudly, "Thor Odinson, Allfather."

Odin didn't even wince as the young man practically screamed the answer. Rather, he turned to the table and said. "And what do you hear, sir."

Blinking, Thor looked puzzled. He shook his head and stepped over to Odin. The room remained hushed, looking as confused as Thor appeared to be. But the blond warrior glanced at Odin, who made no move to clarify. Nodding, Thor looked over the weapons and lifted his right hand. His eyes met Frigga's, and she offered a small smile and a nod. Then, as if he understood something, Thor smiled back. He looked back at the weapons, briefly, then shut his eyes and turned his palm downwards, smoothly running his hand in the air above the various weapons. Soon a soft crackling yellow appeared in his hand, to the slight gasp of those seated, watching. Thor let his hand move back and forth, slowly, as he breathed evenly. The energy in his palm seemed a small fizzle and pop until suddenly it shot out into a strip of near-white lightning, striking the table . . . or rather something on the table. He reached down, as if the bolt drew his fingers, and clasped the weapon that had been struck.

Opening his eyes, Thor smiled to see the warhammer in his hand, runic symbols carved into the decorated head and haft. "I hear singing, Allfather. She's singing her name." He turned to look at Odin. "Mjolnir."

Odin beamed at him, a true wide smile, and nodded, pride in his blue eyes. "Aye, and as long as you are worthy, she will continue to sing . . . Prince Thor, son of Odin, son of Bor, son of Buri. Welcome home." And the older man suddenly pulled the younger into a great hug, slapping his back heartily, apparently unaware of Thor's winces of pain from his still healing whip scars.

Loki applauded like everyone else, pride shining in his ice green eyes. He took the opportunity provided by the cover of the noise to lean over to Frigga and say, "and that is why you taught us to find our energy, Mother?"

She smiled and continued to applaud, not saying a word, and her silence was loud indeed for an answer.

The guards stepped forward and removed the weapons from the table, and Loki watched as one of them scooped up that dagger. He wondered if in a few days he would be put to a similar test . . . and if he would hear that dagger sing. He hoped so; he did love using a dagger.

The meal seemed to speed by after that, a true celebration unlike those of the previous week. This time, the courtiers were certain they celebrated the true prince, rather than just partying with a sincere hope. Great roasted animals, tureens of sauces, platters of vegetables and fruits, circled around the collected guests. Knots of bread, freshly warm, passed from hand to hand, each person taking a hunk until the next knot needed to be passed as the other had disappeared. Flagons of mead and ale, decanters of wine, and pitchers of water and milk were carried around by servants, glasses continually topped up. A roving band of minstrel performers sang and played as they wove among the large tables and hurrying servants, providing gay entertainment as they wandered. And after everyone had eaten the great feast, pots of custard, plates of cakes and pies, and rolls of sweetened pastry were walked around to the diners for their after dinner enjoyment.

As if in aid of the celebration, Loki didn't feel the kick of nausea once, and he ate what he liked. True, he ate lightly, just in case, but he did not have to choke down light toast and tea or run from the room to avoid sickness. For the first time since coming to the palace, Loki felt like he could enjoy himself. And there was the added benefit of Thor, his mate, by one side and Ingolf, his guardian, by the other. He listened to Thor tell Frigga how he'd promoted Hogun and Volstagg, and Loki suddenly wished to promote Ingolf in the same way. He leaned over, smiling at the queen, and asked, "May I also choose a royal guard, Mother?"

Apparently reading his mind, as mothers were wont to do with their young, Frigga looked past the princes to the redhead smiling and eating his custard. She nodded. "If he be worthy, my son, yes."

Loki laughed and turned to Ingolf. He leaned over and whispered in the man's ear, "Ingolf. I'm appointing you royal guard, if you wish it. You'll be my guard once again but live here in the palace."

Ingolf turned, shock written over his face. He lowered his spoon and studied Loki a long moment. Finally, he said, "I would be honored, my prince."

With a shake of his head, Loki corrected, "Lopt, always, for you, Goth."

And the men grinned at each other, the world falling, for one moment, into perfect harmony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Eir mentions a tissue growth condition which Loki does not have. This is in reference to a very real condition which plagues many women: endometriosis. This is where uterine tissue grows outside of the uterus, including the bladder, the ovaries, the stomach lining, and even the rectum or vaginal canal. It can be quite painful and even lead to infertility. There are some treatments for it including hormonal treatments, minor surgery, or a full hysterectomy (removal of the uterus). I do not mention this horrible malady as a passing fancy, but to try to bring awareness to a condition which starts as early as puberty (around 12 years old) and could go on for the rest of a woman's life if not treated. It is often missed in diagnosis, as well. Please feel free to research this condition, and if you feel you have it or know someone who might, please seek help. Thank you.
> 
> Sam


	16. Scars to be Healed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may not be my first "mature" fic, but it's my first time writing absolute smut, so please bare with me.
> 
> Thor's turn . . .

The night air felt gently warm, the perfume of flowers wafting in from the open balconies. The feast had run late into the evening and the pair had only just returned to their rooms. Smiling broadly, Thor watched as Loki sat brushing his black curls at the vanity. Truly the man spent more time on his appearance than any other Thor knew, even to brushing his hair before washing it, like now. _'Perhaps he had little else to do locked in those rooms,'_ the large blond thought. When the lithe brunet caught his eye in the mirror and Thor smiled in return, the other man startled then frowned, placing his brush carefully on the vanity and drawing in a deep, slow breath.

Thor continued to smile, though less brightly, worried eyes following his mate's careful movements. He wasn't sure if they would ever overcome the specter of Tyr, but Thor intended to try. Slowly, he stepped towards Loki, who turned from the mirror with a shudder and faced the large blond. "Your hair is lovely, little one," Thor said, unable to think of anything else to add.

Loki smiled at the compliment, the wariness leaving his eyes completely.

A sudden realization came to the warrior: whenever Loki started to fear, Thor's voice calmed him down. It was a major difference between Thor and Loki's attacker: Thor's voice was deeper. Thor felt their scent was probably vastly different, too, so he stepped closer, letting Loki's inordinately sensitive olfactory make that connection as well.

The brunet's green eyes darkened to emerald, pupils dilating, and Thor rumbled in a pleased response. Much like a warrior's tells in the arena, Thor felt he could use Loki's reactions to learn to adjust for his mate; he could counter the evil memories in time. Thor stopped next to Loki and leaned into him with a gentle kiss.

His mate made an almost purring sound in the back of his throat.

Bracing one hand on the vanity, Thor used the other to stroke Loki's soft cheek, deepening the kiss. Recalling Loki's instructions during their mating a week earlier, Thor let his mouth open and felt a jolt of desire pulse through his cock when Loki's tongue slid inside. With a soft groan, Thor tasted his lover's unique flavor, exploring Loki's mouth, imitating what his mate did. Thor's cock responded and began to ache with burgeoning, long denied need, tenting against his trousers.

Loki turned fully, leaning backwards against the vanity, bringing both hands up to caress over Thor's clothed shoulders. He made a small noise that sounded like protest and began untying the laces at Thor's collar. His clever fingers quickly exposed Thor's throat, slipping underneath the soft leather tunic to trace the sculpted warmth hidden underneath. Almost in echo, Loki's tongue danced over Thor's and caressed the inside of his mouth, drawing another moan from Thor.

Finally, Thor pulled back to catch his breath, tracing his fingers down Loki's cheek. Softly, he asked, "do you want me to love you, little one? Are you well enough?" He carded his fingers through those soft raven curls. "I don't want to hurt our . . ."

Loki pulled him into another kiss, cutting off his lover's words, and Thor took the unspoken hint to stop talking. Rather, without breaking their kiss, Thor scooped Loki into his arms, feeling his mate wrap an arm around his shoulders for support. Moving his mouth to Loki's neck, Thor began to nibble the corded muscle along that delicious expanse to the joint of his shoulder, and Loki seemed to purr in response. Grinning widely, Thor pushed at the soft leather tunic, trying to reach more flesh.

The brunet chuckled low in his throat. "You'll strangle me, idiot. The neck isn't that wide on this tunic. The people here wear entirely too much clothing for my taste." He smirked at Thor who raised his face and chuckled at the imagery his lover evoked.

"Then let us abolish the practice right now," the former gladiator declared. "While in our rooms, clothes are entirely optional." He beamed at the man in his arms and carried him to their shared bad. Naturally, Thor had a private bedroom connected through their shared bathing chamber, but since bonding with Loki and moving into this even larger suite, Thor had spent his nights in Loki's sleeping chamber . . . and his mate had not appeared to mind the arrangement. Rather than lowering the other man to the bed, Thor relaxed the arm supporting Loki's knees, allowing the lithe brunet to slide his legs down in order to stand on the floor.

But Loki surprised him by wrapping his legs around Thor's waist, much as he had shortly after their mating a week previously. The brunet's face took on a mischievous smile and his ice green eyes seemed to sparkle in amusement. "Oh, I think clothes should be forbidden completely," he purred then sealed his mouth over Thor's and slid his tongue inside the hot wetness once more. After a long kiss, Loki pulled back, nipping lightly at Thor's bottom lip. As Thor brought his free hand up to cup Loki's fine ass, the brunet ground his erection against the blond's answering need. Breaking another heady kiss to nibble at Thor's earlobe, Loki growled "now undress me, idiot."

Thor laughed. He turned, sinking onto the bed, and pulled his hand from his mate's bottom. "If you will do me the same honor, my love," he murmured, kissing Loki's neck briefly then reaching down and gripping the hem of Loki's long tunic, tugging it up and over the man's dark curls. Loki aided the effort by willingly lifting his arms, letting the material glide over his head then grinning as Thor tossed it to the floor.

The blond warrior drew in a soft moan and lowered his head to kiss his mate's shoulder, tracing his tongue gently over the sliver of scar he found there. When Loki drew his breath in with a hiss, Thor ignored the small sound and traced the next scar, tasting the marred flesh of his beautiful lover. Loki lifted a hand and began to push Thor's face from his chest, making a small disapproving whimper. Thor pulled back, frowning softly, studying Loki's face, his eyes. "What is it, little one?"

"Don't touch . . ." he began, but Thor quickly shut him up with a fierce kiss.

When Loki stopped protesting, his hands gentling on Thor's shoulders, the blond pulled back once more. "I love you, Loki," he reminded his mate, watching the tremor of fear and self-loathing cross the man's ice green eyes. "Can I not show you or," he tilted his head and studied Loki carefully, "or does it hurt? I thought you healed, Loki."

Loki sighed and pulled off of Thor's lap, sinking onto the bed and turning his back to the other man. He seemed to be withdrawing more than physically as well, and Thor's heart ached. Softly, Loki said, "I feel no pain now, Thor."

Thor reached over and titled Loki's chin so the former prostitute was forced to look back at the former gladiator. "Are you ashamed of your scars?" In the arena, scars were a badge of honor if on the front, as Loki's were, and a mark of shame on the back. But Thor reminded himself that Loki did not come from the arena. He must view the healed wounds very differently.

"No," Loki hissed, narrowing his eyes. "I did nothing wrong. I have nothing to be ashamed of." Something in his voice told Thor that Loki did, indeed, feel shame and merely tried to fight it. Even as the darker man spoke truth, he apparently did not believe his own words.

Silently, Thor removed his own tunic and tossed it to the floor beside Loki's. He then removed his boots and stockings, letting them drop unheeded. Standing, he drew off his trousers, as well, softly instructing Loki, "take off your clothes, Loki." Thor expected his mate to argue; Loki did things when _he_ wanted to, but the brunet silently obeyed, stripping off the boots, stockings, and trousers, never once hesitating, but not meeting Thor's eyes, either. Loki reached for his slim leather dagger belt, but Thor stopped him.

Blue eyes darkened, Thor merely reached for the dagger's hilt to remove the weapon, sliding it onto the nightstand out of harm's way but within easy reach. "Leave the belt, little one." The sight of Loki in such a decadent state again aroused Thor, but he pushed his own needs aside. Loki needed more than sex right now. He needed his confidence raised, much as a novice warrior before his first battle, and Loki needed his vanity stoked. There was not much Thor could do for the fears his love harbored from the attack, but he would try his best to alleviate those, as well.

"Lie down on the bed, Loki." Thor instructed softly, and his mate drew a slow breath then lowered himself onto his front, a tremble running over his body. Thor shook his head and smiled gently. "No, little one, I want to look in your eyes. Your ass is beautiful, but I want to see your gorgeous face . . . and lovely cock."

That helped somewhat as Loki snickered and rolled to his back, actually splaying his legs wide in a debauched pose. He seemed to have found his confidence, but that familiar haunted look remained in his lovely eyes. Thor was beginning to realize just how often Loki lied: by hiding his feelings, by omissions, by manipulating and leaving out facts. Loki was a consummate liar, it seemed, but Thor was beginning to read him. He could see Loki was terrified . . . but trying to please him. The brunet's words came back to him, that he had no memory of their mating. He had started in an attack and woke up in Thor's arms. For all his erotic knowledge, and the many times he'd been mated, Loki was effectively a virgin still. And Thor determined to make _this_ time memorable for his lovely mate.

Sinking onto the bed, Thor softly crooned "in the arena, there are many wounds. Of course, there are ones we receive in training." Thor traced his fingers gently over the large scar above Loki's eye and continued. "Wounds to the front are worn with honor, for they mean we faced our fear and pain and triumphed." He moved his hand down to Loki's abdomen, tracing a slender scar over the trembling flesh. "On the back, they mark shame for they mean we ran from battle or tried to hide." Thor lifted his eyes to meet Loki's and was surprised by the bitter self-hate he saw.

"I did not meet battle head on, Thor," he hissed. "I was attacked from behind. If I could have, I would have run. And it didn't matter. I begged him." Loki began to roll away, but Thor settled a large hand over his belly, preventing Loki from moving without pushing at Thor. Loki stilled, tears welling up. "Don't you understand? I _begged_ him."

"No, you didn't," Thor responded firmly, his voice low and soothing. Loki opened his mouth to argue but Thor shook his head once. "He raped you and forced your heat, Loki. You did nothing to deserve that."

"I was a _whore_!" Loki spat. "I was paid to take it!"

"You told him to stop and he refused." Loki turned his head away and Thor slid a finger under the brunet's chin, forcing him to meet steady blue eyes. "I love you, Loki. I would gladly fight a thousand battles to earn the right to stay by your side. And never once did I consider taking what you did not offer freely." He leaned closer and Loki's green eyes widened. Thor gentled his tone again. "You were not the one without honor, little one." He kissed Loki's lips very softly and pulled back almost immediately. Loki watched him, not protesting, his eyes troubled and confused.

"There is something of even bigger shame in the arena, little one." As Loki watched him, Thor carefully slid his hand down to caress a long, thin scar on Loki's left thigh. He felt the answering quiver in the soft flesh over the strong muscle; Loki had obviously passed some of his imprisonment exercising to retain such an athletic body. "Do you know the word _ergi_?" Thor watched his fingers tracing over Loki's scars, one by one, down one thigh and up the other. "It means a man who will not go to battle rather staying in the back. It is a man who would remain with the children rather than fight. But it has another meaning, as well." He lifted his eyes to meet Loki's. "It means a man who would lie with another man. A man who will not lie with a woman because he is not man enough."

Loki frowned, his lip pulling back in a snarl, but Thor continued. "In the arena, it is a greater crime than any other. Even those who turn their backs in battle may have their body fed to the watch beasts. But an _ergi_ is reviled. He is bound and publicly whipped by the other gladiators. He is left to die and rot. If he survives then he is sold into obscurity, forever bearing the shame of the _ergi_ marks on his back, made by barbed whips." Loki's green eyes watched Thor's blue as he apparently tried to process the turn of the conversation.

With a small nod, Thor said, "I am _ergi_ , Loki." He watched a hesitant look come over his mate and sighed, smiling gently. "I am _ergi_ because I love a beautiful, intelligent, graceful man more than I could ever love a woman. And I would proudly wear a thousand such scars for you. I would rather take the strikes as an _ergi_ to show the world my love than to face an arena of a hundred warriors. I . . ."

Suddenly, Loki sat up, pulling out of Thor's light grasp. He gripped the bigger man's shoulders and turned him, hands beginning to trace the rough, barbed scars seared down the strong, muscular back. Loki hissed, "you did not ignore my warning and fight in the arena!"

Thor turned his head to watch the understanding horror dawn on his mate's face. Pride ringing in his voice, Thor affirmed, "no, I did not. Tyr heard me cry out for you in release and reported me to lessen his own punishment for what he did to you. I was bound and the whippings began, but Fandral intervened and I was removed to the healers at the temple." He met and held Loki's eyes steadily. "After the first blow I did not even protest, for I knew it was the truth. I am _ergi_ and I would bear the pain and the scars for you with pride, my love."

Tears shimmered in Loki's eyes and he pulled Thor's face to his, sealing his mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss. Pulling back only a breath, Loki groaned, "Love me, Thor. Please. I need you to wipe him from my memory. I need _you_." He kissed Thor's neck, tears trailing down his face as he traced his lips over the muscular shoulder, arms wrapping around so his hands fell across the beginnings of the long, cruel brands of puckered flesh.

Thor cupped Loki's face and brought it up for a gentle kiss. "I will love you for always, my little one, my precious Loki." He eased Loki onto the bed and lowered his mouth once more to trace and taste every healed glass cut, the tip of his tongue a bare whisper over quivering flesh, and Loki moaned and twisted, hands tangling in Thor's blond hair, tugging his desire.

When he came to Loki's crotch, he did not bother with the numerous scars there. Instead, he gently brought a hand down to grasp his lover's growing erection. Pride that he could bring Loki to such arousal soared through Thor, and he lowered his head to the thickening length, lapping at the spongy head of the beautiful shaft. As Loki gasped in delight, Thor ran his tongue in circles over the warm flesh, sucking the tip into his mouth and tracing his tongue in circles around the slit, dipping gently inside. Loki threw his head back into the pillow and crowed with desire. Grasping the velvety hardness in one gentled fist, Thor pulled his mouth off Loki's cock head and began to taste his way down the shaft, laving at each thickened vein as he roved down, enjoying the salty tang of his lover's cock. Finally, at the base, Thor raised his eyes to lock with Loki's, opened his wide mouth, and took his lover's balls into his hot wetness, sucking gently and rolling them carefully in his mouth.

Loki howled, hips bucking up, grinding his pelvis into Thor's face.

Taking that for the same sign Loki must have during his lesson, Thor moved back to the head of Loki's shaft. He slowly engulfed the long, slender cock, enjoying the decadent sounds his lover made as Thor engulfed inch after inch of hot flesh. He felt a jolt of disappointment when Loki's cock head hit the back of his throat and still the entire length was not inside. But Thor merely copied the lesson he'd been given and began to stroke with his strong hand while sucking on the tangy treat in his mouth. Apparently Loki struggled to keep his hips still, but once in awhile he bucked, driving his cock deeper into Thor's throat, and the warrior had to fight his own gag reflex, not wanting to let go any part of that delicious cock that had made it into him.

A thickening of Loki's shaft alerted Thor that his lover must be near his release and Thor eased back, pulling Loki's cock reluctantly from between bruised lip. Slowly, kissing back up Loki's writhing body, listening to moans of need and want, Thor nipped and licked the expanse of creamy flesh. Loki's hands remained twisted in Thor's hair, and he continued to tug, despite the lack of stimulation to his staff. Finally, Thor reached Loki's lips and kissed him, pushing his tongue in deep and tasting him, sharing Loki's own taste with his lover.

"Oh, gods, Thor, I need to cum. I'm close, please!" Loki broke the kiss as he begged, raggedly, and Thor smiled .

Rolling onto the bed, on his front, laying his head sideways on his bent arms, watching Loki with dark eyes, pupils blown wide, Thor continued to grin. "Loki, if you want relief, you'll have to take me."

Confusion warred with lust in Loki's eyes and he stilled momentarily, cock pulsing near purple in his arousal. "Take you?"

"Yes," Thor replied, flicking his chin towards the bedside table. "You will find lubricant in the drawer to ease your entrance, little one." And with that, Thor reached for a pair of pillows to slip down under his own hips before once again laying almost casually, watching Loki.

Slowly, as if thinking every movement, every breath, through, Loki reached over and opened the drawer, pulling out a bottle of oil. He sat back and looked over Thor's pose . . . and understanding washed over his face. Loki smiled, relief apparent in his eyes, mixed with curiosity and definite arousal. "You want me to mate you like I am the Alpha?"

"Yes . . . my Alpha. Rutt me."

Pink tongue tip darting out, Loki licked his lips, drawing a moan from Thor at the erotic image. Slowly, as if he suspected some trick yet from Thor, Loki opened the bottle and began to pour the pleasure oil into his palm. He set the bottle on the table and began to caress his fingers over Thor's ass, delving between the large firm globes and tracing over the puckered hole. On a small chuckle, Loki slapped Thor's ass lightly, earning a shocked look from the warrior. "This won't work, Thor. Your legs are closed."

And suddenly, just as he had those first two times they'd met, Loki seemed to fall into a relaxed, easy stance. He sat back on his heels, cock bouncing proudly as he moved. He gestured to Thor's body. "Get onto your hands and knees, like a beast. It'll will go much smoother your first time if you relax and open up."

As Thor got onto all fours as instructed, he let out a soft whimper, glad for the new position as it let his massive tool spring up against his flat abdomen from where it had been trapped almost painfully under him. He spread his legs open slightly and looked to Loki for further guidance. True, Thor had never thought he'd be rutted in the ass, but if Loki could do it, he certainly could. And if this was what Loki needed to feel in control, to ease his fears of being dominated and ignored, then Thor was more than happy to do it for him. Besides, Loki had certainly enjoyed it during their last mating, so it must feel great.

Once more, Loki poured some oil into his palms and began running them over Thor's ass, circling his tight hole, teasing the rim and dipping just the hint of a fingertip inside. Thor moaned at the intimate invasion, the brief and teasing delight, and he shifted, pushing his ass slightly back against Loki's hands. Loki laughed. "There you are. I told you it would be good." As if he'd said the words a hundred times, which he probably had as he instructed couples over the years, Loki added "once you have gotten used to being breached, you can try other positions, but for now, the basic is best."

Loki froze suddenly and Thor looked back at his lover in confusion. "Loki? What is wrong?"

The darker man looked at the blond and frowned, running his hand absently over Thor's asshole and still teasing it, but it seemed he was troubled by something. "Thor, I . . . I shouldn't have said that."

"Said what?" Thor asked, pushing slightly back again to signal his readiness for more of Loki's finger.

Rolling his eyes, Loki slapped Thor's ass again, "behave, idiot!" The sharp pain brought a smile to Thor's face, but he did obey. "I shouldn't have mentioned other positions. It's not like we'll be doing this again." He flitted his free hand through the air, other hand finally still on Thor's ass, the tip of his finger just on the rim of Thor's hole.

"Why wouldn't we, little one?" Thor moved his ass once more, trying to bring Loki back into the spirit of their sex play. "I see no reason why we cannot take turns being Alpha if you wish it." He wriggled. "I feel need, Loki. In my ass and cock."

Slowly, Loki's eyes lit up and he smiled, a seductive, delighted grin that had Thor's balls clenching in anticipation. Something positively wicked danced in Loki's ice green eyes. "You wish for more?" And Loki eased his finger past the ring of muscle into Thor's hole, eliciting a whimper then a moaning hiss from the larger man. Placing his other hand on Thor's back, he crooned, "stay with me, lover. Relax. Let me open you up." And he moved his finger inside, twisting and wiggling it around.

The initial burn and stretching ache had surprised Thor; Loki had been so slick and open for him that last time. But after a few minutes of concentration on relaxing his sphincter, Loki's massaging began to feel as good as his initial teasing. Thor moaned softly and bucked backwards. "Yes, that feels good, love. Deeper . . . " And Loki's finger slid in up to the base. He moved it into a curve and stroked something inside Thor, sending an intense jolt of heat straight to the large man's cock. Thor began to suck back on his own lips, fighting the urge to drool as his body spasmed in electric thrill. The distant sound of thunder rolled outside.

Lightly, Loki began to pull his finger out then thrust back in, still moving it around in a massaging, stretching motion as he finger-fucked Thor's ass. "Are you ready, my love? I'm going to add another."

"Yes," Thor practically begged, trying not to buck against Loki's hand. "More!" And Loki drew his finger almost all the way from Thor's body, the clinging heat of his ass seeming to want to follow the slender digit. Loki pushed in slowly once more, and Thor moaned at the renewed burn, softer this time, as he felt the added girth of the second finger. "Gods, yes, Loki! I need more!" He panted and flung his head back in a low growl of want.

Loki took his time stretching Thor's passage, his lubed fingers cleverly hitting that sensitive prostate just enough to keep Thor's desire thrumming as Loki worked. By the time his lover slid three fingers into him, Thor felt like he might actually cum without touching his own cock, an idea that was entirely new to him, but he didn't care. He wanted the fullness in his ass, the feel of that electric jolt when Loki stroked in just that way. The sound of thunder increased as Thor finally moaned out, "more, Loki!" Three fingers didn't fill him as much as he desired.

"All right, love, just relax," Loki cooed and pulled his fingers completely from Thor's body. He replaced them quickly enough, though, and that stretching burn was back, greater than before but welcome to the overly aroused Thor. He felt stretched fuller than he thought possible, and slowly, so slowly, Loki gripped his hips in both hands and pushed into Thor, easing inch by inch until he bottomed out. And then he stilled, his fingers caressing lightly on Thor's hips.

It took a long moment of aching bliss before Thor realized the significance of that caress. Both of Loki's hands were holding him, which meant it was his _cock_ that was embedded balls-deep into Thor's quivering ass. Thor moaned and let his head drop, panting, letting his body adjust to the over-full feeling of his lover inside of him. "Loki . . . yes," he moaned out, and clenched internally around his lover's staff.

"Damn!" Loki yelped. "You've . . . got . . . a grip . . . there . . ." he panted back, something between bliss and pain in his tone. Thor let himself relax, worried he'd hurt his mate, but Loki merely groaned and began slowly sliding back out of him. "Gods, you are so damn tight, Thor! So hot!"

"Don't leave me," Thor begged and Loki let out a small chuckle ending on a gasp.

"Never," he agreed and slid back into Thor's passage, smoothly, as if he'd done this a hundred times before. The lithe brunet continued his slow, almost maddening slide in and out, thrusting evenly into Thor over and over, as his lover growled, moaned, and whimpered pleadingly. Finally, at some unknown signal from Thor, Loki seemed to determine it was time to pick up his pace. He pulled back and slammed into Thor, twisting slightly as he thrust to stroke his cock head against Thor's prostate, eliciting a howling scream from the man under him. Lightning ripped across the sky and thunder crashed in deafening echo.

"Are you going to flood the place, my love?" Loki panted as Thor bucked his hips back to meet the ever increasing thrusts in his ass.

He nodded dumbly and grinned. "I don't . . . know . . . how to . . . stop it . . . yet," he babbled and howled again as Loki once more hit his prostate, again echoed by a thunderous lightning strike. Loki chuckled and bent over Thor's back to nip at his sweat soaked neck. "Delightful," he purred. "And everyone will know I've fucked you good, my love."

Thor shifted to lean down on his arms, crossing them over the pillow, and stuck his ass further in the air, burying his face in his arms. "Gods, yes . . . fuck me . . . harder! . . . I want you . . . to fuck me . . . until . . . I scream!"

Loki shook his sweaty, clingy curls from his eyes and laughed. "You _are_ screaming, idiot!"

But Thor didn't care because suddenly, Loki reached around his lover's waist to grip his massive cock in one slender hand, having trouble getting his long clever fingers around the entire girth. He began to pump Thor's cock in time with his deep thrusts and Thor lost all coherent thought, howling and moaning, and begging as the storm roared around the palace. Then he began to buck, his cock thickening even more and his knot forming at the base, traveling up his great length, passing roughly through Loki's clenched fist until it settled at his head, and Thor began to spew rope after sticky rope of hot cum across the sheets. His lover bit down on his neck as he followed quickly behind, shooting his hot load deep into Thor's clenching ass which milked him for every drop.

With a long keen, Loki collapsed across Thor's strong back, lapping gently at the blood he'd drawn from his love bite. Thor's arms shook but he lowered them both carefully to the bed, uncaring that he lay in a sticky, sweaty, mess. He wriggled onto his back, holding Loki in trembling, exhausted arms, making sure his lover stayed on top of him the entire time, though he did miss the hot burn of Loki's cock in his dripping ass. Thor gently lifted a shaking hand and pushed sweat tangled curls from Loki's forehead, tenderly kissing the man's scar. "I love you, little one."

The green-eyed brunet lifted his head to stare into the blond's summer blue eyes. He smiled in return, his voice hoarse and husky as he replied, "and I love you, idiot."

Thor chuckled, easing Loki's head back down to his heaving breast, and sighed in contentment, eyes closing as he allowed himself to sleep to the gentle sound of a summer rain outside the windows . . . all signs of the threatening storm gone for the moment.


	17. Dawning Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And again to Loki . . .

Darkness still cradled them as Loki opened his eyes, body satiated after his night loving Thor. For a moment, though, panic began to nibble at the lithe brunet - - his back felt exposed, unprotected. Reaching out, Loki's hand touched Thor's wide, muscular back in front of him, scars knotted across warm skin. Understanding came to Loki; for the first time since waking with Thor a week previously, Loki was spooned _behind_ the big warrior. And panic had gripped at Loki anyway . . . Thor cuddled against his back or back exposed, Loki found neither mattered . . . both seemed to overwhelm him.

Frown dropping into place over his pale, beautiful features, Loki slipped from the bed. He checked quickly to see that his mate slept on . . . in a mess of tangled sheets and dried fluids. Twisting his face in distaste, Loki headed for the shower, unsure how either of them could have fallen asleep in such a . . . with a shake of his dark curls, he cut that thought off. Of course they had . . . and had that first full mating, too. Sex made a person sleepy, used up a lot of energy.

Stepping into the bathing alcove, Loki unbuckled the thin belt he still wore. He absently caressed the fine, soft leather between his fingers. Thor always seemed to want to see him in the belt without any other clothing. _'It must be something stimulating for him . . . I wonder what exactly he sees when he looks at me.'_ Loki dropped the belt with its attached dagger sheath onto a shelf and stepped over to the shower. He turned the taps on, letting the water run over one wrist as he adjusted the temperature, then stepped under the rain of hot water. A groan escaped as he felt the gentle pounding over his aching muscles.

Taking his time to luxuriate in the hot shower, Loki felt his smile grow as his body relaxed while he washed. Thor had let him take the power the night before, and Loki did not belittle that gift of trust. His Alpha mate had been . . . patient and understanding the last week . . . and that was a treasure Loki held more precious than any of the trinkets that had somehow come with him from Laufey's brothel. Now, Loki wanted to find a way to show Thor how much he appreciated such a mate as the large blond warrior.

Smile widening, Loki turned off the water and stepped from the large marble stall, grabbing an incredibly soft towel to dry off with. Finishing quickly, he draped it over a drying rail and picked up the belt, fastening the thin leather around his hips. Loki then prepared washing and drying cloths, moved to the side of the large bed, and sank onto the edge. Warm cloth in hand, Loki bathed his sleeping lover gently, careful not to awaken Thor as the brunet tended to cock, balls, ass, thighs, and belly, leaving the sleeping man semi-erect and sleeping on his side.

The first rays of sunlight slithered into their room from the numerous balconies and Loki smiled, leaning over to kiss Thor's lips softly. He rose, reaching to the bedside table to pick up his dagger and slide it into the sheath. Gathering the soiled cloths as well as their clothes, he carried them to the basket for used laundry. With the same soft smile, Loki walked into the wide wardrobe room and pulled out an outfit for the day: a long, soft grey tunic which tied closed in front rather than slipping over his head and a dark green pair of leather trousers. Forgoing shoes and stockings, Loki dressed then quickly moved to the desk near the door and wrote something on a fine piece of vellum, leaving it propped as he eased silently from their shared rooms.

Padding down the long corridor, enjoying the feel of polished stone beneath his bare feet, Loki nodded acknowledgement to the occasional guard he passed. Finally, Loki stopped in front of a huge pair of heavy wood and iron doors with a carefully carved relief of the great tree _Yggdrasil_. The doors swung open at his touch with no need to turn the great door rings, his energy print programmed into the lock recognition. Smile widening, Loki tread into the almost impossibly massive, well-stocked library.

"Where to begin?" he murmured, turning slowly to take in all of the glorious materials: books, scrolls, electronic storage, readers, video captures . . . a man could spend his entire five thousand year life span in the beautifully appointed rooms, and Loki guessed the suite would have more to divulge . . . a half-dozen lifetimes would probably not be enough to exhaust the contents. Finally, Loki stepped over to a shelf of black leather-bound papers positioned on either side of one of the smaller viewers.

"Is there something specific you seek, _Ast_?"

Frigga's voice drew Loki's attention and he smiled at the Allmother. "I wanted to learn more about everything, actually," he chuckled.

She nodded and walked to his side. "Why don't you start with your place in the world, Loki?" She flicked a hand towards the viewer, which came to life in a myriad of colors. "You asked about the Omega Rites."

He nodded in return, letting the tip of his tongue dart out to moisten his lips. "Yes, I would know the laws, Mother. I would know _my_ rights."

She murmured to the viewer which turned back off. Apparently laws were not something he needed to watch. Rather she pulled out one of the leather-bound books, cumbersome and ponderous, and carried it to a reading table. The light brightened in that area to accommodate them as she placed the large volume on the smooth wooden surface and sank down into a comfortable chair. From a drawer in the table, she removed quill, ink, and parchment. "How much education have you, Loki?"

The twenty year old man sank onto the chair beside the thousands year old woman and reached for the writing supplies. "I can communicate with the written word, Mother, but am no longer confident that I have been taught well at all."

Frigga opened the volume to the beginning. "You know that your father, Odin, changed the laws so that Omegas are protected from execution."

"Yes," Loki glanced over the page and frowned. "I know not this language, Mother." He felt troubled by the lack, but she merely nodded again.

Stroking a hand over his, she then caressed her other over the page, her soft green _seidr_ glowing briefly until the letters literally appeared to reshape themselves into _Allspeak_. "I will teach you languages, my son, but for now let us use the one you are familiar with."

He slid his chair noiselessly closer and bent over the page, left hand dipping the quill in the ink in preparation of writing notes or questions as they worked. Softly, he read aloud, "Omegas have the _Right of Refusal_ , which encompasses the legal right to mate or refuse a mate during the _Omega Rites of Population_." He looked at Frigga with a soft frown.

She answered his unspoken question, "yes. We often use the lesser title of Omega Rites to name it."

He looked back at the page, knowing _Allspeak_ must be a . . . clunky way to translate the laws - - or the original author had little grace of speech. Again he read the too simple statements, "Omegas who agree to participate in the _Omega Rites of Population_ will accede all guardianship of offspring born of the Rites to the other parent of said children." Anger and confusion rose, and Loki narrowed ice green eyes. "Do they think an Omega incapable of rearing his own young? . . . or her own?" he added the last as he reminded himself that male Omegas were even more rare than females.

Frigga, seemingly ever patient, laughed softly. The sound should have grated on Loki's nerves in his indignant state, but it didn't. Instead he found himself relaxing. She replied "I discussed this very issue with Odin for several weeks before we came up with a compromise. His point was that the temple would quickly overrun with the offspring, and the Omegas and staff would be overwhelmed, since each Omega is encouraged to bear more than one child during the _Omega Rites of Population_." She smiled and answered his next question without hearing it. "None of the mates are the same, but the Omega is given the choice to deny any mate selected."

"And if the Omega wishes to keep the . . . children?" Loki asked carefully, left hand dropping the quill to cover his abdomen, right hand still held gently under Frigga's to aid in the _seidr_ translation.

The Allmother smiled. "An addition to the law I insisted on. Read the next line."

His eyes dropped to the book obediently. "Should the Omega wish to keep any offspring from the _Omega Rites of Population_ , said Omega may petition the Allmother. Unless evidence be provided against the petitioner, the petition shall be granted and the Omega granted the responsibility of rearing the child or children in question." Slowly he raised his eyes to meet the Allmother's. "Did Laufey petition to keep me, Mother?" Another thought came to him and he asked, "And did Odin sell Thor to servitude?" He had wondered these things ever since their history lesson in the temple's inner courtyard had been interrupted by his illness.

"Laufey did not petition until well after you had turned four, _Ast_." Frigga met his eyes with kindness. "Until then he seemed pleased his son would be raised a prince. And Thor was not sold by Odin." She sighed and slid her hand from the book and turned toward the screen, keeping her other hand over Loki's, warm and reassuring.

The screen nearby came to life once more, images of fifteen years ago playing out in pieces before their eyes, voices and ambient sounds filling the library with their long ago secrets.

_A thin man with emerald-colored eyes and neatly pulled back raven black hair sat on the side of a bed in an all-white temple room. He coughed and a taller man, dark blond hair pulled into numerous braids bedecked with multi-colored ribbons, dressed in a form-fitting robe that practically displayed his effeminate beauty, stepped up to the bedside and offered the darker man a cup._

_"Drink, Farbauti. It will sooth the pain," Laufey's cool, worried voice seemed to wash over them. The tall man with the braids sank onto the bed, red-brown eyes worried. "The healers say it is a summer illness and will pass in time if you take your medicine. So drink."_

_Farbauti, almost an older copy of Loki himself, reached for the cup, but another coughing fit wracked him, causing him to inadvertently knock the cup from his lover's hand and spill the lavender-colored liquid over the crisp sheets._

_Laufey frowned but merely got up without a word and went to the side table to once again prepare the medicinal draught. He spoke calmly. "I am petitioning to regain our son, Farbauti. It was a mistake to give him away."_

_From the bed, Farbauti raised incredulous eyes to his mate. "We agreed with the punishment, Laufey. The boy is a prince and no longer ours to claim. If you wish another child, your heat will be upon you in but a few months time."_

_The taller, lighter-haired man whirled, anger sparking in his eyes. "They should never have taken him in the first place. That_ Alpha _," and disgust radiated from the Omega, "couldn't even properly knot me. If you had not been my mate, I would have gone insane."_

_Rising shakily to his feet, Farbauti made his unsteady way to Laufey's side. He cupped the taller man's face and pulled him down for a gentle kiss. "Are you going into heat already, my love?" The man's tone was gentle as his mate seemed to melt under the sweet attention. "By all means, Laufey, if you wish for Loki back petition the Allmother. But I can give you more children, my love, and . . ." a sudden, debilitating coughing spasm wracked him, dragging the pair to their knees beside the medicine table._

The screen faded into another scene.

_The throne room, at dusk, no courtiers stood around as Odin and Frigga sat on the dais steps, looking at Laufey, also seated on the steps yet taller than the royal pair. Laufey's skin seemed paler, his eyes almost hollow, his hair lank and down, his hands clutching at his loose dark blue robes in a spastic rhythm. "And so, he is all I have left of my beautiful Farbauti," the tall man whispered hoarsely, eyes darting from the Allfather to the Allmother and back._

_Odin asked "are the inhibitors working, Laufey?"_

_Anger rose in the red-brown depths of his cold eyes and Laufey stood. "Inhibitors? I came here to ask if I might raise my child since his father is dead now," a sob tore from the man's throat, insanity shining through the feverish gaze. "I do not look to have another child . . . I want Loki!" Laufey leaned in closer to Odin, glaring at the king._

_Sighing softly, Odin rose to his feet and looked up at the taller man. "There is no evidence the boy was sired by your dead mate, Laufey, and he is legally an Odinson. He remains at the palace, as you agreed when you and Farbauti broke the laws . . ."_

_"Monster!" Laufey hissed and launched himself at the blond Odin only to be brought up short at a childish voice._

_"Father? I think Thor's sick. He's . . . " the blond boy with deep sapphire eyes trailed off as he apparently noted the tension heavy in the room. Sturdy and beautiful in the androgenous way all ten year olds were, the boy looked from one adult to another, confusion and worry on his pretty features. He clutched the small hand of a tiny five year old with long raven hair and wide eyes the color of winter ice._

_Laufey hissed, "The very image of Farbauti! You cannot deny his parentage, Odin!" He reached for the child, but Frigga rose and stepped between the distraught Omega and the pair of children._

_She held her hand out to her eldest son, but it was the younger who launched himself at the woman, grinning as he fitted his small hand securely in her larger one, "Hello, Momma."_

_Frigga smiled down at the boy and bent to lift him into her arms, "Hello,_ Ast _." She grasped the blond child's hand and said "Take me to him, Baldur. Let father and Laufey speak in private." And she offered a sympathetic glance to the grief-stricken man. "I will hear your petition, Laufey, on the morrow." With that she led her son from the room, still carrying the other._

The scene faded to silent blackness.

Frigga turned to the now adult Loki and sighed. "By the next morning, Laufey's heat fever broke through any inhibitors he may have taken, if he even bothered with them. He had already begun the quick spiral into madness. I refused his petition until he could be healed, but that did not go as planned." She traced Loki's hand softly, an unknown pattern on the smooth skin. "The temple chose to neuter him to break the madness, and Laufey used his _seidr_ to fight them. He was very strong in _seidr_ after all . . . but in the end, it mattered not. I understand the surgery went wrong and during his fight he was wounded in his genetalia severely in addition to his prescribed hysterectomy." She sighed again and met Loki's eyes once more. "Having trouble fighting his mad use of _seidr_ they completely removed all reproductive capability rather than attempt to heal the new injuries." Frigga's voice dripped with bitterness.

"So, neutering," Loki carefully spoke, trying to dispel the image of his . . . parent's scarred body, "does not involve the genetalia?"

"Heavens no!" Frigga breathed. "Nor does it involve the kind of _seidr_ Laufey used which resulted in his own baldness and blue skin."

Blinking in confusion, Loki asked, "blue skin? I have seen him many times and his skin appeared normal."

Shaking her head, Frigga said "possibly ointments or potions, Loki. His mind was not calm enough for _seidr_ use after that botched surgery. I doubt he could have found someone capable of curing his self-inflicted changes either." Stroking Loki's hand once more, Frigga added, "Odin was called to settle a dispute on _Jotenheimr_ shortly after you turned five. We had heard that Laufey had disappeared and so I tried to find him with my _seidr_. Two nights later, all three boys . . . you and your brothers . . . went missing. We suspected Laufey, but had no proof."

Loki blinked slowly and thought hard. Finally, he said, "Laufey is vindictive and mad. If he thought you kept me from him, he may have chosen to punish you by taking your own sons as well."

She nodded. "It is what we think. But, Loki, we have no proof and so can do nothing. We need to find him, as well." Frigga lifted Loki's hand to her lips, placing a gentle kiss there. "It is much to consider, _Ast_."

He met her eyes and slowly said, "he told me that he planned to lure his torturer to the brothel. He would drive me into heat and have me mate the man then kill us both." Loki shuddered, knowing for certain that Laufey had been plotting against Odin. "When did his love for Farbauti turn to hatred of me?"

Frigga nodded slowly. "That is valuable information, Loki. I am not sure when his madness turned on you, but no one is safe with him out of temple care."

"Is the only solution death, once he's caught?" Loki asked and met Frigga's eyes when she wouldn't answer. Studying the Allmother for a long moment, Loki finally dropped his eyes in acceptance, if not pleasure, at the probable fate of the man who had birthed him. Slowly, pressing his lips together briefly, Loki finally spoke once more. "I have the _Right of Refusal_ and the _Right of Petition_. Odin said I would have Thor's title and wealth if we married as well?" He looked at her and she smiled sadly back at the sudden grasping of a new subject.

"It is a little more complicated than that, but yes. You would have a say in how he uses his wealth and power or rules his lands. If he becomes king, you will become queen and rule by his side as the Allmother."

Loki's eyes widened at that and he stiffened, breath rushing out in a gasp. "Allmother?"

His mother clasped his hand in both of hers. "You have time, _Ast_. I shall teach you what you need to know."

"But, I would need to marry Thor to be queen?" he asked carefully.

She glanced at him sharply, seeming to understand the fear below the words. "Do not refuse the marriage because you fear ruling, Loki! Do not do that to either of you!" Her tone was as harsh as he had ever heard it in the short time he'd known her.

Swallowing nervously, Loki turned ice green eyes to her. "But . . ."

"You will do fine, Loki. Think, instead, of your child. If you do not marry Thor, the child will not bear his name."

Anguish threatened the prince and he groaned softly. "But what if he isn't Thor's? I have no idea how many . . ."

"Five all together if you include Tyr," she cut him off. "But Thor doesn't mind the babe's genetics. He wants to claim the child as his own. Will you deny him in order to punish yourself for things beyond your control?"

Having not considered the problem in such a way, Loki let the idea run through his mind. Finally, he asked, "if I become queen, my child will be Thor's heir?"

Frigga laughed softly and nodded. "Your child will be in the line of succession to Thor if you marry him. Any of your other children could be named heir, though, but this first one will have no choice if he or she does not bear Thor's name. And," she enunciated carefully, "that must happen _before_ genetic testing or it can be contested later. If the child is legitimized before its genetics are known, even the courts or other children cannot claim your eldest unfit based on parentage."

Just as carefully, he asked "and one of the three Alphas I was mated to can claim the child?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "It is the right of the parents to claim their children. If one of the men came forward with a petition for the child's rearing, we would have to determine genetics and consider the petition before Thor could claim the babe. Even if the father proved to be Thor, the people would always question the child's true legitimacy."

"Will marriage frustrate that?" Loki asked slowly.

Frigga slipped a finger under his chin and tilted his face up to study him. "No, but it will weigh in Thor's favor against the petitioner. If Thor is willing to give his name to the child and to marry you, even a genetic revelation would be scoffed at by the people. The petitioner would have to prove either of you unfit to raise the child in order to gain custody."

As understanding came so did a plan. Loki nodded. "And Thor says the babe is his."

"We heard him, Loki." She paused. "What is it you are scheming?"

He laughed. "Nothing sinister, Mother. But I would have my child with all the rights due a prince or princess of Asgard. If Thor truly wishes to claim my child . . . _our_ child," he corrected then felt happiness at the idea, pushing back the accompanying fear, "well, then he'll marry me as soon as may be so the people come to accept us as a threesome before the birth."

With a small chuckle, Frigga nodded. "I do not think that will be an issue but to marry him before you become heavy will be a good idea, Loki."

"Heavy?" Loki looked at her, suddenly picturing himself fat and awkward. "I . . . I do not wish to be . . . heavy . . . " he whispered, but she hugged him reassuringly.

"Heavy with child, _Ast_ , not forever. Lady Eir can see to it you are put on a careful exercise and meal program so you do not gain too much weight."

Loki frowned but could find no argument to that. After another long moment to think, he asked softly, almost in fear, "Lady Eir mentioned that male Omegas have difficult births?" Frigga seemed aware of his shaking as fear reared up in Loki. "I fear I cannot do this, Mother," he whispered.

Slipping her arms around the slender man, Frigga nodded. "A male Omega can deliver one of three ways, but none are pleasant. _Seidr_ intervention can be used to allow you to pass the child through the same way it was introduced." She lifted his face and shook her head. "Even with _seidr_ , I do _not_ recommend that method, Loki. Secondly, with _seidr_ , you can pass the child through your navel cavity, instead. It is the most oft selected method, in fact, and said to be least painful. The third can be done without _seidr_. It is to deliver the child by way of the knife - - a cesarean section it is called on _Midgard_ where they have little access to their _seidr_."

"The knife?" Loki asked, still shaking and feeling almost overwhelmed once more.

"Yes," Frigga answered. "The healer opens your abdomen and womb with a knife, removes the babe, and stitches the wounds back shut. Then, with or without _seidr_ , you heal. With _seidr_ , the chance of scarring is minimal. Without, you will bear the marks of delivery for the rest of your life."

Giving a shudder, Loki shook his head. " _Seidr_ , Mother. I want _seidr_ and the navel birth. It sounds least troublesome." Nausea began to rise once more and Loki concentrated on trying to breath steadily, trying to defuse his rising stress.

" _Seidr_ , it is, and a navel birth is the best choice I think." Frigga stroked his hair. "You need to lie down, _Ast_ , discuss this with Thor after you've napped. I will send Lady Eir to you to discuss the particulars." She stroked his cheek and smiled softly. "And we will plan your wedding so that you may be married as soon as possible." Standing, Frigga pulled Loki to his feet and kissed his forehead. "Come, let me take you back to your mate, _Ast_."

Loki sighed but let her lead him. "Why does everyone insist on bringing me to Thor whenever I get the slightest stressed?" He didn't care that his voice came out petulant, what he'd learned terrified him. _'I'm not ready for this . . . why do the Norns continue to plague me? I . . . I'm too young to bear children!'_

"Because, Loki, your Alpha's scent will calm you. His pheremones will sooth you and you will feel better. It's the best way to ease a lifemate . . . access to the other mate in the lifebond." She kissed his forehead again and walked him from the library, the lights automatically dimming and the doors swinging noiselessly shut behind them.

Fortunately, Thor stood in the hall, vellum note from Loki in hand, and studied the pair with a bemused smile. Seeming unaware of Loki's distress and fears, the big blond held up the note. "I think your drawing of books quite lovely, little one. It took me but moments to understand it meant you came to the library." He beamed proudly over his understanding of the note, but his smile slipped as he watched his obviously shaking mate. "Loki? What has happened?"

Without a word, Loki stepped from his mother's embrace and into the arms of his lover, wrapping his arms tightly around Thor's waist, burying his face in the man's wide chest. He breathed deeply of leather and the unique scent of Thor, and the shaking eased. "Take me to bed, Thor. I need rest then we must speak." When Thor opened his mouth, Loki gave him a glare. "After I rest, Thor, not before, unless you wish to summon servants to clean the floors again."

The warrior nodded and turned his mate towards their chambers, barely nodding to his mother in greeting, but Loki didn't care. He merely let his love's scent wash over him, mildly surprised at how right his mother had been: Thor's scent did calm him despite the terror of childbirth he'd learned. Loki kept his face pressed to Thor's neck, trusting the big man to guide him safely to their suite.

Just before they arrived, Loki lifted his face and softly asked, "Thor, will you marry me?"


	18. Questions Answered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor's turn . . .

Arm still wrapped around Loki, Thor stopped them both just outside the door to their quarters, looking at his lover's earnest beautiful face. A sunny smile spread over his own face, summer blue eyes lighting. "You wish to marry me?" he asked in joy.

Loki's ice green eyes met Thor's and he smiled wanly. "Do you doubt me, idiot?" Loki lifted a hand to stroke Thor's bearded cheek. "I need to rest, Thor," he reminded.

With a delighted "yes," Thor opened the door and led Loki inside. He quickly divested them both of clothing, leaving Loki's dagger belt around his hips, much to Loki's apparent amusement. As Thor slid the dagger onto the nightstand, he gave his mate another smile, happily noting that the brunet didn't appear to be as pale, though Loki was admittedly _always_ pale. However, now he looked less ill, and that pleased Thor greatly.

Hey lay his mate back on the fresh sheets.

"You changed the bed," Loki murmured approvingly.

"And you bathed me this morn, little one," replied Thor as he slid into bed next to his mate. Pulling the other man into a loose embrace, Thor lightly kissed his lips. "Tell me what made you ill, little one."

Loki drew a long breath, burying his face in Thor's neck. The blond waited patiently for his mate to collect himself. Finally the other man spoke. "I learned much this morn, Thor, some . . . terrified me." Loki shuddered, voice subdued with his admitted fear, and Thor drew him in closer, leaning his forehead against Loki's.

"Tell me, little one, so I might face it with you," the blond coaxed softly.

Drawing a deeper breath, shaking slightly, Loki said, "I am . . . scared to give birth." He flushed in apparent shame at his weakness. "I have been told I may have _seidr_ used, but . . . I know nothing about birthing." He trailed a trembling hand up to Thor's cheek and stroked once more.

Thor nodded, voice solemn, turning his face to give Loki's fingers a quick kiss before meeting his eyes once more. "I, too, know nothing of birthing. We shall seek Lady Eir's guidance as your Omega healer. Whatever we may do to ease the birthing, we will do." He breathed softly a long moment and finally asked, "How long before you have our child, Loki?"

His mate took a shaky breath. "I am not sure." His voice sounded small and Thor tightened his arms around his lover to reassure him. Swallowing, Loki continued, "We did not discuss that part and I never learned about birthing at the brothel."

With a gentle smile, Thor kissed Loki's soft lips. He thought he heard his mate mutter something about _'getting fat,'_ but let it go. "Then we shall ask Lady Eir for a lesson we sorely need." He kept his voice light and cheery in order to help soothe his frightened lover. "Was there else that disturbed your peace, little one?"

"Yes," Loki admitted and pulled back, seemingly reluctant. As both lay facing each other, holding one another loosely though pressed lightly against each other, Loki said, "if we do not marry, our child may loose his inheritance . . . or be challenged. And," he slid a trembling finger over Thor's open lips, his green eyes dark with fear, that haunted look crossing his features once more. "One of the other . . . men could try to claim him if he does not bear your name."

A low growl issued from deep in Thor's throat and he ground out, "Tyr would never . . ."

Shaking his head, Loki quickly said, "he would never be considered, Thor, but there were three others I've been told." He made a twisted face of apparent disgust or annoyance or anger, Thor couldn't be sure which. Loki thrust a hand through his raven locks, pushing the curls back from his eyes. "Whoever they are, they can petition for my . . . _our_ baby!" Loki whimpered slightly. "I don't want to lose the baby, Thor."

"We won't," Thor proclaimed, putting all the certainty he could behind the words. "We will marry as soon as we can, and I will find out who those men are and warn them to stay away from you and _our_ baby!"

Loki made a noise between a laugh and a sob. "I doubt the temple will reveal the information to us, Thor." He lowered his face to bury in the warrior's shoulder, apparently inhaling.

Thinking over the problem, Thor nodded and stroked Loki's hair. He offered, "my friend Volstagg was a guard at the temple. I'll ask him if he knows who they are." Thor smiled and lifted Loki's chin with one strong finger. "But we will marry so our child bears my name. Then no one can touch him."

Rather than comforting his mate, Loki seemed still on edge, still shaking softly. Troubled by the man's continuing apparent fear, Thor drew his mate's face back down to his neck, feeling the brunet's deep inhalation. "Something else, little one?"

With a nod, Loki softly said "if you become king, I will be queen . . . and," he paused as if hardly daring to breath at the idea then whispered, "Allmother." Loki lifted his face, ice green eyes wide and a haunted look coming back to him. He shook his head, dark curls tumbling around naked shoulders. "I am not able to be . . ."

Worried over his intrepid mate's nervous behavior over so much out of their control, Thor placed a finger on Loki's lips. "Hush, now. I doubt we will be asked to rule anytime soon, little one. Father has near a thousand years left to him." He smiled reassuringly into Loki's eyes. "And you are clever, my love. You will learn your part quickly. I fear if any should lack in an ability to rule, it shall be me."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Well," he drew the words out, "you _are_ an idiot, Thor."

At Thor's surprised look, Loki grinned, a look of mischief dancing over his features and erasing the worry and fear. "But I am sure you are capable of learning from Odin." Loki paused then amended, "Father, I mean." He blinked his eyes up at Thor who smiled encouragement in return, forgiving Loki's jest about his lack of intelligence.

Before Thor could answer, Loki chuckled, his mood changing quicker than Thor could keep up with. "And so I will teach you," the brunet added. "First, your letters and numbers, my love," and Loki shoved Thor easily onto his back, sliding one leg over the blond's hips in order to straddle his mate.

Thor's cock twitched in interest behind Loki's soft ass, but the brunet ignored it. Rather, he lifted Thor's right hand and sucked one of Thor's fingers into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the thick digit. Pulling the finger from his mouth with an obscene pop, Loki bent Thor's arm so that the brunet could trace on the blond's abdomen with the wet finger. "A . . ." Loki said softly as he traced two slanted lines meeting at one end with a third line crossing over them.

The pair spent the next several hours in Loki's erotic lesson, and by noon Thor knew he had learned very little of his letters and very much of Loki. A knock on the door interrupted their love play, and Thor heaved a sigh. "What is it?" he called.

"The noon meal, my princes," Fandral's voice called back, laughter threaded through the merry tones. "Unless you aren't hungry."

Loki slid off Thor. "We are very hungry," he said with a tone of determination.

Thor chuckled. "We shall join you shortly, my friend." He sat up and retrieved the dagger from the bedside table, offering it to Loki, who took it with a smile.

Studying it a moment, then sliding the blade into its sheath, Loki shook his head. "Thor, why do you always wish to see me in my belt when we are nude?" He sounded amused.

Pushing to his feet, Thor offered his love a wicked leer. "Because you look so decadent in that leather strip and nothing else," he replied easily. He laughed at the awareness dawning in Loki's eyes, followed by the wicked grin spreading across his lovely face. "But, for now we should fill your belly. You have lost weight, little one." As Loki rolled his expressive eyes, Thor chuckled and picked up their clothes, offering Loki his grey and green outfit of the morning. Thor watched Loki dressing as he pulled on his own deep red tunic and dark blue trousers, then both retrieved light boots and stockings. Once fully dressed, Thor offered his large hand to Loki.

The other man didn't even hesitate. Apparently, he was becoming accustomed to always touching Thor, which pleased the large blond. Loki slid his hand into Thor's and the pair strode from their suite, down the vast corridors, and to the dining hall, where they made their way to the raised dais and took their seats, Loki situated as ever on Thor's right.

As Ingolf, on Loki's right, engaged the younger man in conversation, Thor turned to his own left, where his mother was seated in a place of honor beside Odin, who was also already seated. "Mother?" Thor asked softly.

She turned a smile on him and covered his near hand with one of hers. "Yes, Thor? Have you spoken with Loki about his concerns?"

Thor nodded. "Yes. We wish to marry as soon as we are permitted. How long must we wait?"

Frigga thought for a moment then spoke once more. "We can have a simple hand fastening within the week, if you do not mind the temple sending a priest to perform the ceremony. It is legal for the purpose of offspring. Then, when you both are ready, we can hold a royal wedding with all the guests and rituals that are expected of a prince . . . or two princes," she smiled wider, "of Asgard. That may even wait until after the child's birth, if you both wish it, but will need to be within the year or the hand fastening is annulled."

Glancing to his side, where Loki and Ingolf sat with heads close together for privacy, the blond nodded. "Mother?" He turned back to Frigga who nodded in encouragement. "How long before the baby is birthed? Neither Loki or I know anything of child birth."

"Ten months from conception, my son," Frigga answered promptly. "That would give Loki just under two months to recover from his birthing to hold the wedding. I would recommend having it sooner, despite the pregnancy . . . the people will be delighted that a first child is due and will not hold such against either of you." She stroked his hand.

Letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding, Thor grinned. "I shall ask Loki, but I think your words wise, Mother." He paused a bit, toying with the other fears Loki had expressed, then asked quietly, "how is a baby born, Mother? Loki is terrified."

She let her smile drop but did not look troubled. "It is not generally a conversation for a meal, Thor, but I shall tell you. A woman has an opening the man uses to impregnate her, and the babe comes out that same opening. However, when a male Omega is impregnated, there is no actual opening the baby can come through, so one has to be made. Either the healer can use _seidr_ to enlarge the rectum, but I warned Loki to forgo that choice. I have not heard good recovery of that method. A healer can use _seidr_ to open the navel, which is just above or over the womb, and thus is the easiest for recovery. For one without _seidr_ or in dire emergency, such as when I delivered you, my son, a healer will use a knife to open the womb and release the child."

"What?" Thor felt confusion. "But you are a woman, Mother, you have . . ." he flushed and dropped his voice yet lower, "an opening to deliver with. Why would they need a knife for you?"

"Because I was quite ill, and you would not come out. You were ill and there was an obstruction. They had no time to prepare _seidr_ for the delivery. I was given something for pain and they cut you from me." She patted his hand, reassuring once more. "When they opened my womb, they found I carried a tumor as large as you and it blocked my entrance. It, too, was removed, but I was infertile ever after, Thor."

"I . . ." Thor felt his throat close at the horror his mother had gone through.

She shook her head. "It was nothing you did or anyone else. Even with how far our medicine has come, we still have the occasional drastic health problem. We both are alive, and that is what is important, my son." She squeezed his hand and drew it closer, nodding as a servant lifted meat and vegetables onto her plate. "Thor, Loki has chosen _seidr_ and the navel delivery. It is safest and least painful. Lady Eir will monitor him regularly so we are aware of any problems if they arise." She lifted Thor's hand to hold against her cheek. "Your brother will be perfectly fine."

Thor could not feel easy, despite his mother's words. Now, he knew why Loki had been so shaken. Making a decision, Thor said, "I wish to be there when he delivers, Mother. Is that permitted?"

"What permitted?" Loki's voice came from the other side of Thor.

Turning, Thor told him, "I wish to be with you when our baby is born."

"And that is encouraged, Thor," Frigga added, leaning forward so her words carried to Loki as well. "Bondmates can help during delivery, easing the pain and making the delivery go smoother. I am pleased you wish to be there. What think you, _Ast_?"

"Yes," Loki said without pause. The brunet offered his mate a smile and Thor nodded, smiling in return.

Wanting to please his mate further, Thor said, "Mother says we can marry within the week, Loki." As those beautiful green eyes widened, Thor felt pleasure well up.

A soft laugh from Frigga drew their attention. "A hand fastening by a temple priest to show the world you are bonded. You will still be required to marry within the year, which can be arranged within two or three months, if you desire?"

Loki breathed, hand clutching at Thor's. "Within a week? Then it won't matter who tries to claim the baby? It will be Thor's?"

"Why would it not be Thor's, my prince?" The question came from the large red-haired man with the big beard seated across from Thor, between Hogun and Fandral. Apparently the redhead had either missed the conversation of the royal family or ignored it until then.

Loki frowned and looked over at the man, but Thor smiled back. "Loki, this is Volstagg, the guard from the temple I told you of." He turned his gaze to the large redhead. "We do not wish one of the men who serviced Loki to claim our child." Thor frowned a bit. "We don't even know who they were. Loki cannot remember."

The large man, and Thor's new friend, blinked slowly and asked carefully, "Prince Loki, you have no recall of those nights at the temple?"

The brunet shook his head, eyes displaying discomfort.

Volstagg sighed and nodded, leaning forward so his voice didn't carry too far. "And the priests did not tell you anything?" At Loki's head shake and frown, the big guard let out a low noise sounding of disapproval. He shook his head. "Well, it is not against the vows to tell you who mated you, my prince. And truly, you have every right to know who was with you. I was the first selected, in fact, and I tried to tell you that I might not be able to breed you. You were too far in your heat to heed me."

Both Thor and Loki looked shocked, staring at the large man across the table.

He sighed. "I will not attempt to claim your child, Prince Loki. I believe a child should stay with the one who bears it, if possible. You will make a good parent, I think, but if you ever have need of my aid, I will gladly give it."

Slowly, Thor realized that Loki had tears in his eyes, so he lifted his mate's hand and kissed it gently, drawing Loki's gaze. He offered a smile. "Well, that . . . is one less worry, is it not, little one?"

"One," Loki conceded slowly, voice doubtful.

"The others would feel the same, Prince Loki. As members of the temple, we are sworn not to interfere with the Omegas unless required by the High Priestess Freyja. She specifically chose temple guards or priests for you so we would be, by law, unable to try to take your child. We had been informed that you were held captive, and none knew your true identity. Lady Freyja did not wish to take more choices from you than possible and so made sure you would have full claim to your infant if you wished to raise it."

Loki's face dropped to Thor's chest and the blond turned to make it easier to hold his mate. He felt the brunet's body shaking, could hear soft sobs, and Thor merely held him close, kissing his head and murmuring whispered nonsense. He could see the worry on Ingolf's face but couldn't figure out how to reassure Loki's guard.

A clear ringing chime drew all, but Loki's, attention and Thor screwed his neck around to see his mother standing, a spoon in one hand and crystal goblet in the other. Sudden silence engulfed the room and the Allmother smiled at those gathered, giving her husband a brief nod before turning to Thor and Loki and speaking. "In one week's time, Prince Loki and Prince Thor will hand fasten to celebrate their lifebonding." She lifted her glass to the pair and drank amid cheers from those assembled who also drank willingly to the royal couple.

As she sank back to her chair, Frigga leaned closer to her sons and said, "I will have the temple add their vows and laws to the library, _Ast_ , so we will not be confused on their position in the future."

Thor stroked Loki's hair as his speechless mate merely nodded, still crying in Thor's arms. With a sigh, Thor promised himself that he would ask Loki what exactly he cried over this time and if he was happy or sad. Emotions were proving as difficult to figure out as a trained warrior's gladiatorial moves. Thor dropped another kiss on Loki's dark curls and held him, waiting out this newest storm.


	19. Wedding Plans Awry

As if requesting the hand fastening ceremony drew with it a storm of activity, Loki found the end of the idyllic quiet of his first days in the palace. Suddenly he had been thrust into helping plan the hand fastening as well as the royal wedding slotted to take place in three months time. When he wasn't making wedding plans, the lithe brunet found his hours filled with lessons in _seidr_ , language, and law. Except in his suite at night, Ingolf had practically become Loki's constant shadow, and Lady Eir was never far away.

For five wild sunny days of confused chaos, Loki had little time to even think about what had happened with Thor the last time they'd mated - - but he did think about it in the darkness of their room. He recalled the confidence and trust his mate had displayed letting Loki breech him . . . an Alpha allowing himself to be rutted . . . giving up the control . . . letting his Omega have the power . . .

Pushing the stray thoughts once more from his mind - - in the dark wrapped securely in his mate's arms was one thing, but this was broad daylight and people surrounded him - - Loki turned and offered a small smile at the fluttering seamstress displaying a length of dark raspberry silk which threatened to turn Loki's stomach. Diplomacy had always been key in his past life so he merely tilted his head, keeping the smile.

"I prefer green, like my eyes." With his right hand he gestured to the soft emerald tunic and matching trousers trimmed in muted gold which he wore. Lifting his left hand, he stroked the material, hiding his revulsion. "Pretty color, but I've never been partial to pink or purple. And for such an important event, I want to feel as gorgeous as the clothes you make me."

Preening at the compliment, the seamstress gave the prince a fond smile and murmured "green like your eyes." She nodded and hurried off on her mission to find a different material for Loki's wedding outfit.

Another woman tried to claim his attention, asking about flowers, but a rather grim looking man demanded answers as well, seeming to feel his question of patterns was just as important as the cloth being used. Loki rolled his eyes at the sketches the designer presented then stiffened as he really looked at them.

"A dress?"

"Naturally," the designer answered, voice confident. "What else would a future queen wear for her wedding?" It took but a moment for the man to realize his error, but Loki did not allow him the grace of self-correction.

Rather, anger bubbling through his veins, Loki rose in one fluid motion and advanced one step on the man. Behind him he heard the florist squeak and scurry from the large palace receiving room. Ignoring the minor distraction, Loki growled, "her?" Fire flashed in his suddenly emerald eyes, darkened with intense emotion. "Do I look like a woman?"

Swallowing, the man appeared to scramble to cover his insulting mistake. "You will be queen," he replied, "and you are marrying the prince, and you're bearing a child. So . . . " he seemed to realize the list he'd pointed out had added to Loki's ire rather than lessened it. Finally, he wisely shut his mouth, cutting off his own arguments.

"I refuse to be insulted," Loki said, voice and eyes icy. "Leave. I will use none of your suggestions." He flung his left hand out in a dismissive gesture. "Ingolf, if he will not leave . . ."

"Willingly, _my prince_ ," the guard rose to his feet, stressing the title for the idiotic artist who'd seemed to forgotten he dealt with the other prince, that Thor was not the only acknowledged prince of Asgard. But the designer took the hint and literally ran from the room without looking back. Ingolf walked over to his charge and gently laid a hand on Loki's stiff shoulder.

Lady Eir stepped into the public room, glancing over her shoulder at the fleeing man. Turning back to the angry prince and sympathetic guard, she shook her head once, lips pursed in disapproval. Slowly she said, "even your patience and diplomacy have limits, Loki?" She had seen him emotional before, so the words were rhetorical.

He turned to her and rolled his eyes, appreciating her dry humor. He flung out his hand violently, not hitting anyone but expressing his annoyance. "He called me a _woman_!" Sympathy rose in the older woman's eyes, and Loki felt some vindication. He continued "He wished to put me in a _dress_ for my wedding, because I am marrying _the prince_ and bear a babe." Wrapping his arm around his abdomen, eyes narrowing, Loki spat, "I will not be insulted!"

She nodded as Ingolf carefully stroked the back of Loki's neck in a soothing gesture appreciated by the former prostitute. Eir drew her loose summer robe around her but did not fasten it shut over her flowing, light gown. "Many are uncertain how to speak to a man who can bear a child. At present only twenty four, including you, live . . . in our knowledge."

A grunt issued from Loki, but that was the only acknowledgement he would deign to give that claim. He thought about the rarity of his nature: out of perhaps five hundred fifty Omegas, only twenty-four were men. Loki huffed and rolled his eyes again.

Ingolf offered a smile and small bow to the healer. "My lady, is it time for Lopt's examination?"

"No," she smiled briefly at the redhead. "I heard our prince's anger in passing and thought to check on his stress."

Loki sighed and knew she was correct; he couldn't allow someone so narrow-minded to cause him to become ill. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Loki dropped his hand to his side and let his head hang down, his shoulders still stiff. "I feel overwhelmed at times, Eir," he said, voice soft.

Lady Eir seemed unsurprised. "Naturally. Your life has gone from mostly your own in very strict living arrangements to fairly loosely restricted but a far fuller schedule. There's been no time to adjust to either. It would be much to ask of many a young man, let alone one who is about to marry and have a first child." Her voice sounded almost disapproving.

A small smile broke over Loki's face and he let out an inelegant snort of renewed amusement.

With an answering smirk, Eir asked in her blunt way, "have you been able to be intimate with your mate these last few days? The hormonal release with him would ease you, my prince."

Surprised, Loki tilted his head. "You are prescribing sex?"

"Yes," she replied.

Loki began to laugh, the tension finally draining from his body. "Oh, I adore you, my lady! Can I use your orders as an excuse to interrupt Thor in his training?" Mischief played in his dancing green eyes and he felt delighted surprise when the healer returned his smile, though Ingolf was the one who answered.

"I'd be happy to get your mate for you at any time you require, Lopt." The guard smiled and winked.

Another laugh bubbled up and Loki threw his arms around Ingolf in a spontaneous hug. "Oh, thank you, Goth." He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling ready to continue the madness of the planning. "Let us see if I can at least wait until tonight."

The three vastly different people chuckled in companionable amusement, interrupted when a very polite, young palace messenger entered the room and called, "Lady Eir, you are requested in the healing rooms, please." The man bowed, one arm over his chest, before leaving.

Eir sighed. "If you will excuse me, I'm helping to recalibrate the soul forge." She bowed her head to the men and, at Loki's smile of dismissal, left the room, footsteps a bare whisper in her soft shoes.

Offering his longtime guard, and recent friend, a smile, Loki turned and walked to the large opened doors overlooking the water gardens. He studied the aesthetic arrangement of paths, ponds, and water plants. Finally, he said "for flowers perhaps I should use lilies." He knew the florist had left some time ago, but he spoke for Ingolf, no one else.

A different voice, however, answered him, a light and friendly baritone. "Lilies are at times thought to symbolize death, my prince."

Loki whirled around, not recognizing the voice.

He frowned at the sight of a slender man with deep sapphire eyes and gold-colored hair - - the man's hair actually seemed to have sparkling metallic tones among the blond strands. The stranger was clothed in a soft white wrap-around tunic and loose, comfortable looking white trousers, as well as sturdy looking white-colored leather boots. The effect of the light coloring enhanced his tanned skin and broad smile. The man strode into the room with confidence and grace, moving past Ingolf with a nod of acknowledgement before coming to a stop just before the dark-haired prince.

Somehow, Loki realized that he didn't feel in the least uncomfortable or frightened around this stranger in white. _'Why?'_ Tossing his head, black curls brushing his shoulders, Loki stood relaxed before this man. He decided to gently challenge the stranger, to judge his reactions before deciding if he was some threat. "I know this is a public room, but it has been reserved for my private meetings today. Are you here for the wedding plans?"

Smiling broadly, sending a jolt of confusion through Loki, the man chuckled pleasantly. "Not the wedding, Loki, but the hand fastening. The temple sent me to perform the ceremony in two days."

Momentarily pushing aside the information about the hand fastening he'd demanded despite the lack of necessity Volstagg had pointed out, Loki tilted his head, ice green eyes narrowing. "You are the priest?"

The priest chuckled again, the sound contagious though Loki fought it. "Yes." He reached out and took Loki's hands, holding them spread wide so he could study the prince, who felt too shocked to protest. "My, you are quite lovely, Loki! I knew you would grow to beauty but you have surpassed even that." He smiled at the brunet.

Loki frowned and tugged his hands from the priest, who easily let them go. "Do not touch me," Loki murmured but put no feeling behind the demand. Somehow this man's touch felt safe. Suddenly he realized that the priest had been referring to him in a familiar way, no title or pomp in the least. Loki paled at the possible reason behind such familiarity. "The temple," he breathed, eyes widening as he glanced towards Ingolf.

His guard finally stepped forward and reached for the priest, but Loki held up one hand to forestall Ingolf. Carefully, Loki studied the lovely blond and shook his head. "We have met before?"

With a chuckle the man nodded eagerly, but seemed to hesitate after Loki did not return the happy gesture. Slowly, that golden smile dropped away and the priest looked from Loki to the hovering Ingolf and back again. Softly, he said "you do not remember me, Loki?" There seemed to be hurt in his lovely voice.

This he could deal with and had wanted to. Loki shook his head. "I am sorry. I can remember nothing from the temple. And you . . . eased my heat?" Something seemed wrong with the idea of this man having mated him, but Loki could not pinpoint why. It wasn't as if the man seemed violent, possessive, or in any way a threat to Loki and Thor.

Straightening, the priest shook his head, looking stunned. "Do you think we mated?" He did not seem to find that amusing in the least and shook his head again. "Oh, no, Loki! Why would you . . ." sapphire eyes widening in sudden realized horror, the priest stiffened further and anger crossed his fine features. "You were the Omega in captivity?"

Confused, Loki wrapped his arms around himself and narrowed his ice green eyes to study the stranger. "If you did not tend me at the temple, why . . ." The brunet cut himself off, expecting the priest to fill in the blank, but the silence stretched. Apparently, the blond was not one of those people who guessed what other people thought. For once, Loki found the lack of assumption annoying. "You are here to perform the hand fastening?" he sought affirmation.

With a nod and a return of his sunny smile, the priest seemed to relax. "Yes. I was told to report to the palace to hand fasten the princes but aught else." He shook his head studying the younger brunet once more. "No one told me you were the Omega I was to tend, though."

"Omega to tend? What do you mean?"

"Who the hell are you?" growled Ingolf, apparently at the end of his patience with this mysterious stranger.

Surprise lit those vivid blue eyes as he turned to look at the frowning guard. "Oh! I am sorry. I just," he looked back at Loki with a soft frown. "You truly don't recognize me, Loki?"

Loki shook his head wondering privately if the man had actually been one of his numerous pupils at the brothel. But that made no sense if the man was a priest. Priests didn't go to brothels to learn sex.

The joy and laughter seemed to drain completely from the priest and he stated, "Heidrun, my prince." He bowed over his arm formally, finally falling into the behavior expected of a visitor to the royal palace. Somehow the room felt less . . . sunny and happy since the priest withdrew his joyful smile.

Thinking carefully, Loki tried to put the pieces together. This priest had been sent to tend Loki's hand fastening because it included an Omega. Heidrun had no idea that the Omega was actually Loki, whom he addressed by his name in a relaxed, familiar manner. One of his customers wouldn't have addressed him in such a way, and the children he'd apparently played with before being imprisoned wouldn't have known his name. Also, anyone he'd met before would be surprised at his elevated rank not easily accepting. Only those who knew Loki from the palace would treat him in such a way.

Gasping softly, Loki's eyes opened wide in shock and hope. He breathed out _"Baldur?"_

A joyful smile lit the priest's face and he nodded enthusiastically. "You worried me, Loki, when you treated me so coldly. I thought my exile still being enforced." The priest reached for Loki's hand and the prince allowed it, studying the sunny features, deep blue eyes, gold-traced hair.

"Exile?" Ingolf asked carefully, tone sounding a warning Loki knew well, though it was possible the man claiming to be Baldur might not recognize the possible danger.

Heidrun . . . or Baldur . . . turned to nod at Ingolf. "Yes. When Laufey . . ."

"Laufey?" Loki jumped on the name, silencing the priest. "Hold a moment, Baldur, and come with me." Grasping the older man's hand tightly, almost afraid he would disappear, Loki tugged the blond behind him out of the reception room. He knew without looking that Ingolf followed, weapon at the ready in case this was some foul deception. Guiding the bemused priest quickly, Loki ended in a small ante-room to the throne room. He knew his parents often conferred together over state matters in the private chamber before making public rulings.

With a brief knock, not waiting for acknowledgement, Loki pushed the door open and dragged Heidrun through, letting Ingolf close the door once inside. "Allfather, Allmother," Loki spoke formally, alerting them to the significance of the interruption, and bowed over his free arm.

The priest and guard followed suit, though a look of complete eager fear settled on Heidrun's face.

"Yes, my prince?" Odin asked formally, apparently studying the temple priest Loki clasped so tightly.

Loki nodded and turned back to Heidrun. "Now, tell me of this exile." He released the man's hand, sinking onto the edge of an empty chair.

Heidrun ran a hand through his golden locks and smiled nervously. He looked over the royal couple then turned to Loki, apparently deciding to address his reply to the prince, not the king or queen. "When Laufey," he began only to be interrupted by Odin's gruff, disapproving voice.

"You have seen Laufey? Recently?" The elder man asked, eyes dark and thunderous.

Shaking his head slightly, Heidrun turned his attention to the king almost reluctantly. "No, Allfather. Not recently. I have not seen him since my apprenticeship began fifteen years past."

"Apprenticeship?" Loki seized on the word. "And exile?"

The priest sighed and ran his hand over his beautiful face. "Let me begin again, I think. It is a long tale." But the priest did not ask permission to sit, launching into the story. "When Laufey took me to apprentice, he said I was to not contact anyone at home because I was to become used to living my new life. I was apprenticed to a magistrate and was to ever use the name Heidrun, as decreed by the Allfather, who had determined his heir would be the youngest prince, Loki."

Frigga stood and walked over to the priest, studying him carefully. "Baldur?" she asked, sounding breathless.

"Let him finish, wife," Odin barked out, looking disapproving and on the verge of angry.

Heidrun looked from Frigga to Odin then bowed formally once more. "I worked hard to bring honor to my name. I did not begrudge the throne to Loki, but did not understand why I could not simply stay at home and learn to laws there. But Laufey had said the people would not accept Loki as heir if I or Thor remained."

"Thor?" Frigga asked.

With a nod, the man who seemed more and more to be the final missing prince said, "Well, yes. If Loki was to rule, Thor, too, would have been in the way. So Laufey said he was apprenticed to a man who ran a stable. That pleased me, since I knew Thor loved horses. And I was apprenticed to a magistrate far from the palace so the people would accept Loki's new station." He looked at Loki and smiled softly. "You will make a lovely king, Loki." He then took his story up once more, no one interrupting at that last claim. "When I was fifteen the temple priests came on their annual review of the people. They determined I needed to go to the temple, and I have been there ever since, still using the name Laufey instructed me to under order of the Allfather," he bowed slightly to Odin. "I was trained as a priest and am now one of three in Asgard who might perform the ceremony of hand fastening for an Omega."

The man turned a smile on Loki. "I had no idea you were an Omega . . ." the smile dropped as he seemed to recall the earlier revelation. "But how did you become captive, Loki?"

Studying the man carefully for deception, though something in his manner claimed truthfulness, Loki shrugged casually and said "Laufey had me apprenticed as well, you might say . . . in a brothel."

Shock rocked Heidrun and the man staggered, Ingolf's hand on his back steadying him. "A brothel? An Omega?" He shook his blond head and frowned further. "And a prince? How were you to be considered heir to the throne if you were working in a brothel? That makes no sense."

"About as much sense as selling Thor into gladiatorial service . . . a gladiator's stable," Loki replied.

"What?" Heidrun's sapphire eyes suddenly went nearly black as anger appeared to blaze in him. "Why would he be sold into slavery?" He turned on Odin then. "I respect you, my king, and always have loved you, but to send your children into servitude and slavery?"

"I did not," Odin said calmly.

That made the priest stiffen, but it also quieted his protest.

Odin continued. "My children were stolen from me fifteen years ago. You will submit to genetic testing, as well as truth revelation, to determine what you say is not false." His voice cold, nearly dictatorial, Odin rose from his seat in a fluid motion. "Until then, you are to remain in the palace, a guest on restriction if you will, and will tell this tale to none other."

"Not even Thor?" Loki asked, earning his father's glare. "He was seven when we were stolen, Father. He might even recognize Baldur . . . they were inseparable then."

Slowly, Odin nodded once. "Very well, I will allow Frigga to inform Thor that a claimant has arrived." He turned his baleful look upon Heidrun. "You will perform the hand fastening for Loki and Thor in two days time?" Surprisingly, it was a request not an order.

Heidrun carefully asked, "two hand fastenings in one day? It is hardly customary. Thor is mated to an Omega? Or is _he_ the Omega?"

That brought Odin up short and he looked taken aback. "One hand fastening," he clipped out. "Thor to Loki." With that, he strode from the room, hard steps striking loudly on the stone floors.

Frigga touched Heidrun's cheek and smiled. "Welcome home, Baldur. Your father has been longing to see you again, but he is afraid his heart will be broken."

With a soft smile for the queen, the priest nodded. "I think my life has been a lie, has it not?"

"It is quite possible," Frigga returned and gestured to Loki. "We now have our three children back, as long as the genetics are proven on both of you." The two men exchanged glances but Frigga continued. "Now, more than ever, the people will demand you finish testing, Loki, to prove your claim. At least Thor has already passed the _Test of Worthiness_."

"My queen?" Heidrun asked carefully, drawing a sad smile from her. "Why are the princes to be hand fastened to one another? They are . . ."

"Brothers?" filled in Loki. At Heidrun's nod, Loki smiled, mind and emotions a whirl but not above answering the man's concerns if it meant withdrawing a barrier to the hand fastening. "Because Thor is my lifemate. And we are sanctioned by High Priestess Freyja herself."

"Oh," the golden-haired man in priestly white said, but his tone seemed as overwhelmed as Loki's own internal thoughts.

"Come," Frigga said, sliding her arm around Heidrun's. "Let me set you up in a room. Do you know Volstagg? He was a temple guard before being promoted. We will assign him to you while we await the results of your _seidr_ tests."

"Volstagg? Very tall redhead with a big voice?" Heidrun smiled. "Yes, he and I are friends. Thank you, my queen, for your kindness."

The foursome left the receiving room and made their way down the corridor towards the living quarters, Frigga guiding them towards the royal wing rather than the rooms for lesser ranked guests. Leading the priest into Thor's former suite, she finally let his arm go. "I hope this is adequate. I will have someone come and prepare it for you. It was used only two weeks ago, so it is still fresh and well stocked."

"It is very . . . big?" Heindrun replied, looking around with wide sapphire eyes.

Loki snickered, recalling the tiny white rooms of the temple. "Yes, there are five rooms to roam here. Ingolf, can you go get Volstagg, please, but tell him only that he is to guard a guest, nothing else." The redhead bowed and left without a word, and Loki turned back to the blond. "Why would you be taken in by the temple? Did they need a law student so very much?"

Looking amused, Heidrun turned to glance over Loki's lithe frame then chuckled softly. "I was taken in because it is the law, Loki. The temple searches every year and determines who should be taken in."

Tilting his head, Loki frowned. "Why? Is that how they recruit priests? By conscription?"

Shock crossed the priest's face and he shook his head. "No! It's what happens to all Omegas."

Drawing in a breath, while Frigga tried to smother a gasp, Loki hissed "You are an Omega?"

"Yes," the man replied simply.

"Heidrun?" Volstagg's voice boomed from the doorway in pleased surprise. "What brings you here?"

The trio turned to the guards and Heidrun smoothly answered, truthfully none the less, "I was sent to hand fasten the princes in two days time."

"You're not near your heat, are you?" Volstagg grumbled, still smiling. "I'll be hard put to keep the Alphas from a fresh Omega if you are."

Loki shook his head, suddenly realizing that this Omega had been allowed out of the temple . . . as Loki himself had been told. But he'd assumed only mated Omegas left the temple. Yet more rules and twists he did not understand. Slipping a hand over his abdomen, Loki whimpered and sank onto the bed.

Instantly, Frigga called out "Loki, come, to your rooms. You need rest." She pulled him up, unprotesting, and guided him from the suite.

He glanced over his shoulder, catching sight of an extremely worried look on the handsome priest's face before turning back the way his mother guided him. He drew a steadying breath then a second. "Mother, is he truly Baldur?"

"Baldur?" Thor's voice came from their shared suite, the large warrior standing in the doorway covered in sweat and grime from his weapons training.

With a gentle nod, Frigga grabbed Thor's arm and guided both men into the room, letting Ingolf follow and secure the door. "Thor, bathe. Loki, rest." She instructed her sons, and they obeyed, Loki listening to Frigga's beloved voice as she explained this newest twist to Thor while he washed from the sink in the other room.

Turning over on the bed, eyes on the door, Loki sighed and wrapped both arms around himself. Yet one more indication of Laufey's foul insanity, telling Baldur he was being exiled from the palace in favor of Loki's rule. Loki turned his face and buried it in the pillow . . . and sobbed. He really hated the man who'd birthed him - - perhaps as much as Laufey hated him in return.

This did not promise a happy end.


	20. The Heart of Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this chapter was a long time coming, for which I am sorry. I was on a Stucky kick with the next story in the Omega Rights series. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> And now, Thor's tale . . .

As Thor finished drying his arms and torso, Frigga left the suite . . . with the overwhelming news that the priest sent for the hand fastening might just be his older brother, Baldur! _'Truly the Norns twist the threads of life in confusing ways.'_ Wanting to go see this claimant, hoping to find the brother he'd allowed himself to start remembering, Thor stepped out of the washroom.

He saw Loki curled on the bed, face in the pillow, shoulders shaking in light sobs, looking miserable, and Thor decided his long missing brother could wait . . . Thor's mate needed him now. "Loki?" he called softly. "Are you ill again, little one?" Thor strode quickly to the bed and sank down next to the curled up brunet, reaching out to stroke those soft curls.

Loki uncurled so quickly it was almost an attack. But rather than strike out at Thor, the man wrapped his arms around that strong waist and buried his face in a great muscular thigh. He seemed to be trembling, and that worried Thor, despite no sign of the sobs Thor thought he'd seen.

"Laufey did this to us . . . all of this," Loki's voice shook with strong emotion.

Thor had suspected Loki blamed Laufey, but the warrior didn't ask for deeper proof beyond what Loki felt. Thor had a feeling his lover had more evidence stacked against his dam than against even Tyr, and that had been some very hefty evidence. Instead, Thor stroked Loki's curls again and murmured "I'll keep you safe now, little one. You can trust me."

Lifting his face, Loki seemed to study the large blond for a long moment before sighing and sitting up. The darker man slid up Thor's body and cupped his face, slanting his mouth over Thor's. The questing dart of Loki's tongue had Thor answering by opening his mouth, responding with his own explorations.

His body responded immediately; they had been so busy during their recent days that the couple hadn't done more than cuddle for the past five nights.

Pushing Loki gently back, gasping for air, struggling for control over his tell-tale erection, Thor groaned softly. "Loki, if we continue this way, I will be aching all day. You are not well . . ."

"I am well _now_ , idiot, or I wouldn't have asked for this," Loki breathed, his voice trembling in need, want.

A grin crossed Thor's broad face and he leaned in to kiss his love again. "Then you wish to have sex?" He couldn't help the desire flaring through his own voice.

" _Now_ ," Loki informed him, voice certain despite the need shaking through those normally dulcet tones.

Thor beamed. He carefully began to strip Loki from his gold-trimmed emerald tunic and trousers, slipping off the soft-soled boots and thin, soft stockings. When he exposed his mate's glorious pale, cream colored skin, Thor drew in an equally trembling breath. As the blond warrior preferred, his dark lover wore that dagger belt close to his skin, a thin black band of leather slung over his hips, previously hidden by his clothes . . . much like the treasure between his graceful legs.

This time, with a sultry smile, Loki removed the dagger himself, leaving the belt, and turned to place the engraved metal weapon on their bedside table within easy reach should they need it, though they hadn't had any reason to grab it so far. As he turned to face Thor once more, sliding further up the bed so he could stretch out, Thor grinned and slid out of his own trousers, boots, and stockings.

Loki immediately launched himself on Thor, desperation playing under his need. He buried his face in his mate's neck and seemed to breathe deeply before muttering "sweat, blood, dirt . . . all you . . . all mine."

The words made no sense to Thor, but he allowed Loki to babble, running his large calloused hands over the soft-skinned muscles of his lover's abdomen, drawing a hiss from the slender man. With a smile, Thor turned his head to kiss Loki's forehead and the other man finally relented, giving up his somewhat confusing obsession with Thor's neck - - not that Thor minded his mate sniffing at his neck all the time; truth to tell, Thor loved Loki's scent, too, and wished he could bury his nose in that soft skin anytime, anywhere..

A questing, long-fingered hand wrapping around Thor's erection drew a low moan from the large blond Alpha. His cock throbbed in Loki's grip. Smiling into their kiss, Thor moved his hips, gently rocking into Loki's soft, strong hand.

Loki purred, eyes almost closing, a look of desire and pleasure settling on the pretty Omega's face. Pulling his head back, Loki panted " _Now_ ," in a heat-filled whine. The jade green of the smaller man's eyes had been all but obliterated by his blown pupils.

Surprised, Thor ran his hand down Loki's cheek to that slender neck and over his pale chest, ending at one dusky nipple. The warrior's touch caused his mate's nipples to harden and pebble beneath strong, calloused fingertips. Softly, Thor trailed kisses to Loki's neck and nibbled at the scarring: the mating mark.

A soft howl came from the already stimulated man, the excessive reaction confirming Thor's suspicions. Loki, despite his pregnancy, had fallen back into heat - - or rather into pseudo-heat.

Lady Eir had warned the pair it could happen. When a female got pregnant, her sexual drive might dry up or could actually rocket to new heights. Her pheromones inevitably drove her mate's hormones into over-stimulation, resulting in intense mating cycles during pregnancy. The same could, theoretically, happen with a bonded Omega male, though no one had tested the theory in the healer's memory. Every day of their unique bonding, Thor and Loki made new leaps in Omega research without even trying.

A tug on Thor's cock drove the past discussion from his mind. He again nipped at Loki's mating mark, eliciting a near growl this time, and Thor smiled, lapping at the minuscule amount of blood pearling on the fresh tear, clear endorphin-laden serum leaking out and mixing with Loki's life essence.

Loki stroked Thor's cock again and again, and, like that first heat mating, Loki seemed to lose all finesse in his need. His voice came hot and low, begging "now, fuck me, Thor . . . I need you now."

"Yes," Thor soothed, finally dropping his hand to Loki's long slender staff. The warrior prince could smell his mate's arousal and, as his fingers stroked to Loki's root, Thor felt the already dripping wet slick from the dark-haired prince's ass. Thor licked at Loki's neck and cooed "let me get the lube so you can prepare me, Loki."

Blown green eyes met darkening blue as the brunet shifted in Thor's grip, whimpering. "No, I need you _inside_ me." Loki thrust, apparently trying to get Thor to reach his fingers back towards that hot, tight, slicked passage.

"In you?" Thor breathed and felt his heart constrict. He knew that the pseudo-heat must have overrode Loki's fear, but . . . the need in the lithe brunet's tone called on the large blond's baser instincts: fuck his mate then deal with talking. Lifting his other hand, Thor slipped a finger back over Loki's puckered bud and felt the slick dribbling out.

His mate was so aroused, they wouldn't need lube despite Thor's size. Deciding quickly, Thor had ever been a man of action rather than deep thought, the blond nodded. "Okay, little one. Let me lay down." Whimpering, Loki bucked back into Thor's hand but apparently determined the promise of Thor's large shaft was more enticing than the finger stroking the dark prince's hole.

As quick as thought, Loki twisted.

Thor landed with a gasp on his back, surprise widening his eyes. "Lo . . . Loki . . .?" he panted, but the other man merely grunted and slid a leg over Thor's hips to straddle him. With a firm grip, the former prostitute deftly guided the massive tool to that puckered entrance and stopped - - so close their combined heat pulsed between the pair of lovers.

Bracing one hand on Thor's chest, Loki's lust-dazed eyes met the other man's blue gaze. The blond slid his hands to the brunet's waist, firmly clasping the slender man and holding still under the delicious aching heat of his lover's body. They remained poised for a heartbeat . . . two . . . three.

Finally, in a low growl, the Alpha ordered his beautiful Omega "impale your hot ass on my thick cock, Loki!"

And Loki slammed himself down with a loud keen of passion and need and pleasure-pain. Thor shouted at the intense, tight heat practically strangling his engorged member. "Yes! Loki, my love, yes!"

Loki let out a low, rumbling purr as a deep, body shaking roll of thunder ripped across the sky followed by a vivid shaft of electric white heat. With a moan, Loki used his strong thighs and legs to lift himself until he almost pulled totally off of Thor's cock, only the head remaining in his ass. Taking a deep breath, he held himself up impaled on Thor's cockhead only. Letting out his trapped breath in a long, low moan, Loki thrust himself down on that meaty shaft until he bottomed out with a mewl. Again, the lithe brunet lifted almost off the massive rod then slammed fully back down.

On that third down thrust, Thor bucked his hips up to meet his love, grinding his pelvis against Loki's and drawing a loud keening wail. The sound screamed of pure pleasure and the mated pair soon developed a rhythm of ecstasy that had lightning splashing the cloudless sky, thunder a constant, unrelieved rumble almost under the audible level.

The pair increased their pace, their rhythm, Loki's ass clamping and pulling at Thor's cock. Their moans, gasps, and grunts echoed across the suite, filling the morning with the sounds of decadent pleasure. Anyone passing under the balconies of their rooms knew without a doubt that the princes were mating hard and fast.

Shortly, Thor's cock filled fuller, his knot forming and pushing up into Loki's slick, hot ass, drawing a deep keen of shock from the smaller Omega. The Alpha's knot traveled up his shaft until it lodges at the head, locking the pair together as Thor pumped rope after rope of hot cum into Loki's ass, while the brunet screamed in release, his own erection spurting thick liquid seed, cumming untouched, the epitome of a fertile Omega.

xxx

That night the banquet hall sat full of merry makers, thousands of candles gleaming over the festive decorations and gaily clothed courtiers. At the high table sat the royal family, close friends, honored guests, and personal retainers facing those of higher rank. Anyone with any claim to dining privileges at the palace sat among the great tables below the dais, resembling a grand, merry Meade Hall of ancient times and traditions.

Odin and Frigga stood at the head of the vast room, dressed in the finery due the celebration of an upcoming Omega's hand fastening, golden threads woven in tunic and trousers of deep red for Odin and a long green gown with silver embroidery for Frigga. To one side sat the golden-haired priest going by the name Heidrun, still in white but dressed in delicate, rich material as due his station as the Omega overseeing such a rare ceremony in but two day's time. On the other side sat Thor, dressed in deep sapphire trousers and satiny red tunic with gold trim, a warrior in build, stature, and self-control. Next to the blond sat his mate, dark-haired and pale-skinned, lovely in a deep emerald tunic with silver embroidered runic designs along the sleeves, waist and collar, his silver trousers setting off his still slender build.

As Odin raised his hands, the entire assembly hushed, voices quickly dropping to respectful silence for the Allfather. He smiled and said "As you may have heard, we have possibly found the three missing princes." The man waited for the cheer to subside before he called out, "However, as all three claimants have led lives under other names, and the circumstances of their sudden appearances are questionable, we have determined that as of this moment, all three men will receive the Tests of Determining." Odin's eyes fell on Thor, who sat, smiling his acquiescence at having to retest. "The man I have formerly proclaimed my second son has graciously agreed with our concerns and is willing to go through all three tests with the other claimants."

Another cheer rose, but whether for Thor's willing behavior or the fact that the testing would be fair and complete across the board was not clear.

Frigga stood and moved in front of the table to a wider, open section of the dais, providing a clear view for all. "The first test for the claimants to the Blood of Odin will be the _Test of Truth_." She smiled over the room, her calm manner reassuring that she had no doubts as to the honesty of the men she would be testing. Almost serenely she continued, "This test will consist of using a _seidr_ weaving over the man in question. It does not test the actual verity of the facts but of the belief in the facts the claimant has. If he is telling the truth, this will reveal his honesty." Turning towards the royal claimants, Frigga asked "do you agree to the _Test of Truth_?"

All three men chimed their agreement, and the hall burst into whispers. People had apparently heard there was a third claimant, but none had yet realized the man was a priest from the temple. Odin raised a hand, silencing those gathered.

Frigga turned back to the main crowd, smiling. "In order to demonstrate the _seidr_ change, I would ask for a volunteer from the room to undergo the test as well."

From one end of the dais, Heimdall stood, his golden eyes trained solely on the Allmother. "I volunteer, my queen." At her nod, the dark-skinned messenger stepped forward, stopping beside Frigga. The warrior, dressed in dark gold with deep brown woven among the fibers, formally bowed over his arm to her.

Frigga lifted her hands and her light green _seidr_ began to glow. Holding her hands over Heimdall's shoulders, loudly she instructed, "Please claim to be one of the princes, of your choosing."

Heimdall, equally firm, stated "I am Loki of Asgard, born of the Omega Laufey of Asgard."

Beside Thor Loki snorted softly in apparent amusement. Thor grinned at him and interlaced his strong fingers with Loki's more delicate seeming ones.

The light green swirling energy slid into a deep, abysmal black color, drawing a gasp of surprise from the crowd. The color looked almost malignant it was so dark. Frigga nodded and flicked her fingers, the blackness disappearing. She again lifted her hands and re-wove her spell. Clearly, she said "Now, state your real name, please."

The man spoke, clear and loud, "Heimdall of Asgard." The title without a parental name revealed him as an Omega Child to the whispering surprise of the crowd. Almost as surprising as his title was the color change of Frigga's _seidr_ ; it changed from that light swirl of green into a pulsing rainbow aura around the tall warrior.

Frigga flicker the energy clear and smiled at Heimdall. "Thank you, Heimdall of Asgard." The man bowed over his arm and moved back to his seat, expression neutral but unusual golden eyes amused, leaving Frigga standing before the assembled crowd. "The _seidr_ will turn black for dishonesty, yet the color of honesty differs for each person tested."

She smiled at the three claimants at the table behind her. "Will the first claimant please step forward?" She asked.

The priest stood and walked around the table to stand behind the Allmother. Whispers about this unknown priest rippled through the crowd. He seemed to concentrate solely on the queen, though.

She lifted her hands above his shoulders, the light green flowing from her palms and over his neck and arms. "State your name, please."

Quite clearly, without a trace of uncertainty, the golden-haired man replied "I am Baldur, eldest living child of Odin and Frigga. I am also known as Heidrun the Omega priest." As the crowd seemed to hold their collective breath, Frigga's light green energy signature faded until it became a pure, shining white, matching the priest's finery. As far as the man knew, he spoke true.

"Thank you," Frigga said with a very delighted smile, flicking her fingers to clear the _seidr_. He bowed formally to the woman and moved back to his seat on Odin's right. Thor stood, letting Loki's hand go, and moved around the table before he was even asked to, but his mother merely nodded acceptance.

As Thor rose from his respectful bow, Frigga placed her hands over his broad shoulders, the warrior much larger in build than either of the other claimants. She called "state your name, please."

Thor nodded once, feeling a warmth over his shoulders, wrapping his neck and back and arms. "I am the Alpha, Thor, second son of Odin and Frigga, and the former gladiator known as Donar."

Unable to see the change of his mother's _seidr_ , Thor watched the crowd, knowing he spoke the truth . . . as he believed it. The crowd seemed delighted with the response, and Thor knew he'd proven himself in the first of the tests, at least.

"Thank you," Frigga said, and Thor turned to bow to her as she flicked her fingers, a deep, vibrant scarlet color disappearing from sight.

Moving quickly, Thor regained his seat next to his mate and smiled for the graceful, beautiful man. At Frigga's call for the third claimant, Thor patted Loki's arm and offered a reassuring smile. His lover quirked an amused eyebrow, though, and gracefully rose.

Holding his shoulders straight and his head high, Loki strode forward and bowed over his arm to the strawberry-haired queen. He seemed serene as she raised her _seidr_ over his shoulders and ordered "state your name, please."

In a calm, clear voice, the raven-haired man claimed "I am Loki of Asgard, also known as Lopt. I am an Omega, and my dam is Laufey the Omega. I am possibly sired by a disgraced priest, Farbauti." The crowd drew in a shocked breath at the public revelation that the third prince, if what the claimant said was true, might really not be of royal blood at all, but Loki had not finished his claim. "I do not claim to be blood related to Odin nor Frigga, but I was adopted by the royal family during the Omega Rites of my birth." The long statement was unprecedented. If any small portion proved false, the entire statement would be thrown into question as the _seidr_ would glow black, not displaying which part was false and which truth.

Thor held his breath, though he knew Loki believed everything he said. The man would not deliberately lie in so important a testing as this.

Frigga's light green _seidr_ swirled over Loki's shoulders and turned into a bright, vibrant gold.

A loud cheer went up around the diners, delight and relief that all three men spoke the truth they believed. All of the claimants had passed the first test and Asgard was one step closer to having all of its royal sons returned to them.

When Loki arrived by his side once more, Thor could not resist kissing his mate, despite the vast amount of viewers. Surprisingly, Loki responded with enthusiasm, the spirit of the celebration and his own triumph appearing to enhance the brunet's enjoyment, despite the public display. Loki pressed against his mate's side with a soft whimper, and Thor wrapped a secure arm around his lover. He knew his mate's pseudo-heat continued and looked forward to the loving after the banquet ended.

xxx

The dawn brought with it a feeling of freshness after the unexpected storm of the night before. A smell of moist earth and blossoming flowers crept over the balconies around the palace. Thor might have little control over his weather _seidr_ , but someone else must have a way to protect the landscape from the ravishment of rain and lightning. A gentle freshening breeze wafted over the land, carrying with it the varied scents of those protected blooms.

A sensation of light suction, followed by gentle nipping, across his abdomen and chest drew Thor out of his sleep, and he opened his summer sky eyes. One large hand languidly reached down to tangle in Loki’s soft curls, allowing the man his pleasurable explorations. Jaw cracking wide in a yawn, Thor sighed and smiled. “You still feel well, little one.” The words held no question; if Loki had awoken ill, there would have been no love play at all.

“I feel vibrant,” Loki purred, sliding up his mate’s body and pressing his beautiful nakedness against Thor’s thigh. “Tomorrow we will be fastened.”

Interesting enough to draw Thor’s notice, Loki did not sound sexual, merely happy. The large blond turned to study his smiling love and had to return such evident joy. The pseudo-heat had temporarily subsided and left Loki playful and content. Thor liked his mate this way . . . no sign of stress or worry. Such a positive reaction to their intense loving could only promise good for the babe and its dam.

Planting a relieved kiss on Loki’s warm lips, Thor reluctantly rose. He grunted as his body loudly proclaimed aches in muscles overused the night before echoed by a disappointed huff from the raven-haired man still in bed. Thor deliberately stretched to begin easing the kinks from his body . . . and to show off his muscular form for his mate. “We cannot lie abed, little one. We have another test before the court.”

“Yes,” Loki rumbled, eyeing his mate’s glorious body, much to Thor’s satisfaction. The dark-haired man sighed and finally rose with his customary grace, much to Thor’s amazement - - how the man could move with such ease after their enthusiastic night was beyond the warrior.. Loki added “There is one scheduled for breakfast and the last for the evening meal.” Suddenly, his smile returned and his ice green eyes seemed to dance. “Then tomorrow belongs to us, Thor . . . our hand fastening.” The brunet stepped up to the blond and wrapped his arms around the warrior’s muscular waist, pushing his nudity against his lover once more. “And we will be married soon.”

Thor laughed and kissed his mate again, breathing into his mouth “yes, Loki, you and I will be wed.”

“Will I be a princess then?”

The question took Thor by surprise and he pulled back slightly, confusion in his blue eyes. “What?”

“Well,” Loki pulled completely away, though his voice remained curious, and the lithe brunet entered the open doorway of their wardrobe room. “If I marry you and you are king, I become queen.” Loki replied; the noises accompanying his voice denoted that the man dressed as he spoke. “So, if I marry you, and you are a prince, do I become a princess?”

“Uh . . .” confusion swirled through Thor at a question he hadn’t thought to ask his mother. Knowing how Loki had so negatively reacted to the tailor’s implied insult to the Omega’s manhood, the Alpha was uncertain if the unknown answer would anger his volatile mate. “I shall ask . . .?” Thor offered, hesitant to destroy Loki’s good mood. The blond walked into the large clothing room to dress, noting the brunet had already finished, wearing a dark blue tunic and black trousers, and a very large grin.

“Idiot,” Loki murmured, voice fond. “The answer doesn’t matter as I will insist they refer to me as a prince. Pregnant or not, I am a man and will be treated as such.” Loki trailed a loving hand across Thor’s nude ass then slapped one globe with a playful laugh. “Wear the yellow and green. You look good in more than red and blue, Thor.” And the man stepped gracefully from the room, padding to the bed in order to sit and pull on his dark blue boots and light stockings.

Thor stood staring after his lover, a smile slowing creeping over his face until it was as if the sun shown through his grin. Laughing at Loki’s playful attitude, as well as the man’s determination not to be slighted, Thor turned and pulled on the sunshine-colored tunic and dark hunted-green trousers his mate had suggested. He finished dressing quickly and joined Loki as the other man moved to leave their suite. Stopping the raven-haired beauty, Thor offered his mate one last kiss before twining fingers with him and leading him from their rooms.

As they strode through the crowded dining hall, there seemed as many people present as the night before, Frigga fell into step beside Thor. She took his arm as they headed towards the dais and whispered to her sons, “After you are hand-fastened, Odin wishes me to work extensively with Thor on controlling his weather _seidr_. The Allfather says he cannot shield the palace and lands from your . . . enthusiasm forever.” She offered a smile and broke away from the two younger men to join her husband at the royal table.

Loki let loose an infectious laugh as Thor’s entire body flushed with mortification at the gentle reprimand. The slender prince pulled his stockier warrior mate to their assigned seat, still chuckling.

Once the royal family had taken their seats, Odin rose again. “Last night the tree claimants passed the _Test of Truth_. This morn the High Priestess Freyja will give the _Test of Heritage_.” The four thousand year old man bowed and sat down as Lady Freyja rose from her seat beside the priest called Heidrun.

She walked in front of the table and faced those assembled. “Last night, you saw _seidr_ auras of honesty from the three men, but those colors are not their own. Those auras were created by the _seidr_ weaving itself. Today, if the men have _seidr_ in them, their signature auras will be revealed and registered officially.” She paused to look over her listeners, apparently the information she relayed held importance. With a nod, apparently satisfied that the audience grasped the significance, she continued. “The main _seidr_ of the claimant will appear as a great trunk rising up. The brightness indicates strength of individual _seidr_ , vibrant for strong connection and faded for minimal _seidr_ connection. If there is no _seidr_ connection, a black trunk will rise, indicating the void.”

Feryja nodded then turned to the royal family. “From the left hand a vine of the sire’s _seidr_ aura will rise and twine around the child’s trunk. The dam’s _seidr_ aura will twine from the right. These should already be registered as will be the vibrancy of the connection. If a parent does not have a _seidr_ connection, no vine will show.”

A voice from the onlookers called out “and if the sire or dam have a similar color to another man or woman, what then? And isn’t the one claimant pregnant? Will the infant’s _seidr_ interfere? And . . .”

“Hush!” Odin roared, silencing the random questions. “This is not a lesson in _seidr_. It is a test of proof for the three princes.”

Freyja called out, calmly, “if the signature aura is too similar to another’s, I will cast a _Test of Birth Revealing_ ; however, that is a viewing of the birth from the infant’s view and is considered a serious breach of privacy. This revelation will only be used as a last resort for proof. And the infant’s _seidr_ will not interfere. If the babe is indeed gifted in _seidr_ , its aura will appear wrapped inside, protected by its dam’s trunk. Neither the babe or its dam will be injured by this testing.” She turned a soft look of confidence towards the royal party, her eyes falling on Loki.

After a long, silent communion between the pair, the blond woman turned once more to face the main court. She called out “Heidrun, if you still wish to be a claimant, come forward and kneel before me.”

Instantly, Thor felt his gut clench. He had gotten used to using his birth name, but he suddenly realized that as of last evening he had given up his name. If something went wrong, he would be known forever as Donar . . . or have to claim the stranger’s name of Erik Larson. Loki’s hand over Thor’s did nothing to relieve the warrior’s nerves, but he did not feel so alone with his mate’s reassurance. He wondered what name Loki would have if this failed for him; the man had ever been known as Loki . . . or would they change it to the child’s pet name of Lopt?

Thor watched with worried eyes as the priest, again dressed in classic white, but this time in a short sleeved tunic and knee-length trousers, feet encased in light sandals, rose. Heidrun stepped around the table and moved to kneel before the High Priestess, confidence in his manner. Freyja raised her hands over the tall man’s head and began to weave her _seidr_ flow from her, a strong metallic silver aura which slowly seemed to sink down to envelope the golden’s head of Heidrun.

Immediately a bright white-gold column of pure energy sprouted and grew from the man’s head and shoulders, shimmering in vibrant glory. A heartbeat later a bright powder jade _seidr_ trail wove from the right side to entwine the sturdy trunk, followed another heartbeat later by an intense red-orange _seidr_ glow wrapping up and around like a vine. Lady Freyja called out, “White-gold _seidr_ for a son of Odin and Frigga, Allfather and Allmother of Asgard. If none challenge this test, along with the evidence of his truth last eve, I claim this man Baldur, son of Odin, son of Bor, son of Buri and the eldest prince of Asgard!” A cheer rose from the crowd as Freyja cut her hand through the auras, dissipating the colorful display, and stepped back. “Rise Prince Baldur and welcome home.”

Baldur smiled up at her then at the cheering viewers. He rose to his feet and bowed formally over his arm. “Thank you, my lady.” And, as simply as that, the priest walked back to his seat of honor on Odin’s right. He seemed genuinely surprised and delighted when Odin rose and hugged him tightly.

Freyja raised a hand, quieting the crowd.. “If you still wish to be a claimant, Donor, come and kneel before me.

With a squeeze from Loki’s hand, Thor nodded and rose. He took a breath, feeling as if he once more walked into an arena. Stepping around the table, Thor knelt in front of the priestess and waited, bowing his head as Baldur had done before him. He felt the warmth of her _seidr_ surround him and an answering jolt of lightning rip from him to the skies. The crowd gasped and two trailing, winding energies rose up as well, one gentle and soothing, the other just as electric and powerful. Unable to resist, Thor opened his eyes and tilted his head upwards to see the brilliant yellow trunk standing tall and proud directly above him, wrapped by the same jade green and orange-red vines as Baldur’s _seidr_ had been.

Smiling down at Thor, Freyja announced confidently, “Lightning yellow _seidr_ for a son of Odin and Frigga, Allfather and Allmother of Asgard. If none challenge this test, along with the evidence of his truth last eve, I claim this man Thor, son of Odin, son of Bor, son of Buri and the _second_ prince of Asgard!” Amid enthusiastic cheers and calls, Freyja laughed very softly and intoned “Rise Prince Thor and welcome home.”

Thor sprang to his feet with his beaming, sunny smile. “Thank you, my lady,” he repeated Baldur’s words and headed happily to a warm and public welcome from his parents. Still grinning, Thor slipped into the seat next to Loki, giving his mate’s hand a firm squeeze.

Without being called, Loki stood and walked around the great table, but he paused there, awaiting Freyja's cue.

She nodded and called out "If you wish to be a claimant still, Lopt, please kneel before me."

Loki nodded in reply and gracefully sank to his knees before the High Priestess. She performed the spell yet a third time, but this time, very quickly, very strong, and very bright, emerald green shot up from Loki, twined with ice blue from the right, his dam, and vibrant purple from the left, his sire. And in the center of the emerald tree a very bright turquoise glow pulsed, strong and sure, with a thin bright tendril of yellow entwining it. Loki glanced once above, but seemed more interested in his babe’s aura than in that of his parents. He smiled softly and slid a protective hand over his abdomen, eyes wide and wondering.

Drawing a breath, Freyja called out “Emerald green _seidr_ for a son of Healer Farbauti of Asgard and Laufey of Asgard. If none challenge this test, along with the evidence of his truth last eve, I claim this man Loki of Asgard, Omega Child and adopted son of Odin and Frigga, the third prince of Asgard!”

A gasp across the room turned to applause and cheers as the importance of the claim sunk in. Loki’s genetics meant nothing in light of his subsequent adoption during the Omega Rites. Thus, his standing as a son of Odin, albeit not biological, went unchallenged. Amid enthusiastic cheers and calls, Freyja laughed very softly and intoned “Rise Prince Loki and welcome home.” She placed a hand on Loki’s arm and called, “And let it be registered that the first child of Omega Loki has a _seidr_ aura of turquoise.” She smiled again.

Loki bowed formally to her, and Thor held his breath, hoping his mate would believe him now that the child was his, both of theirs. The raven-haired man could not have missed that shoot of lightning around the ocean colored glow from their child. But the graceful brunet merely walked back to his seat and accepted the enthusiastic welcome of his parents, Odin and Frigga. A soft smile on his pretty features, Loki finally sank onto his chair. Under the table, Thor gripped his lover’s hand and squeezed gently.

Odin turned to his people once more and called, "tonight, at our supper feast, these three princes will undergo the _Test of Worthiness_ , to see who may be the next king. If only one proves worthy, _he_ shall be my heir. If more than one proves worthy, I will hold my claim of heir until we see who might prove worthiest.” The ruler then sat, signalling the start of the breakfast feast, leaving the courtiers whispering about how Loki had suddenly been thrust into a position to claim the throne, should he prove worth by the evening’s testing.

Thor merely enjoyed the sensation of sitting by his mate and truly knowing he was, at last, home.


	21. Weapons of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's turn . . .

The night's banquet seemed the most lavish yet as everyone dressed in their best. Once it started, the food and drink would threaten to last the entire night and into the next morning: the day of the hand fastening of two acknowledged princes of Asgard. Voices competed with one another, and with roving entertainers, as the crowd called merrily back and forth in jovial anticipation of the third and final testing for the three claimants. With the public _Tests of Honesty and Heredity_ no one doubted they had all three missing princes back. No, the test planned for that night was not proof of identity; it would reveal Odin's heir to the throne. Spirits were high for the testing followed by the eagerly anticipated feasting in celebration; they merely awaited the arrival of the guests of honor: Princes Baldur, Thor, and Loki.

Loki stood by the cracked open door leading from a back corridor to behind the royal dais. He took in the sight of the partying crowd, watching silently without feeling nervous. To him, it mattered not if he proved worthy to rule; he would do so if chosen, but he held no ambition for the throne. Rather, Loki carefully studied face after face, looking for someone specific: his dam, Laufey. As the hours had slowly slid into one another, closer to the hand fastening and his official bonding registration with his mate, Loki felt something would go terribly wrong.

They had made no secret of their plans, Thor and he, and so Laufey would not have failed to hear of this grand event. If ever he wanted vengeance on Loki, or even Odin, there would hardly be a better occasion than the public ceremony of bonding . . . unless the twisted madman chose to wait two more months for the royal wedding itself.

A hand gently pulled Loki from his vantage point and the door shut softly.

Loki looked to his long-time bodyguard and friend, Ingolf, who smiled just as softly as his actions. Barely above a whisper the older man said "they will prepare the dais now, and you are not permitted to see that."

Smiling back at the redhead, the raven-haired prince nodded and smoothed down his dark emerald and silver-worked tunic. "I have seen it before when Thor underwent the testing, but I have no interest in providing fodder for dissidents. I have no reason to cheat, Goth."

Ingolf smiled and turned Loki back to the two blond princes, his adopted brothers, one of which was his life mate. Also standing with the claimants were Volstagg, the red -haired newly minted royal guard, and Fandral, longtime acquaintance and confidant of Thor. Each prince would be tended by a guard throughout the ceremony, while the royal messenger Heimdall directed their coming and going. King Odin, the Allfather, wanted no claims of false choosing this time around. Even Mjolnir had been reclaimed by the Asgardian ruler to be used in the _Test of Worthiness_ ; she would have free choice of her companion once more. In his heart, Loki hoped she would again select Thor; the dark prince would love to see the naysayers put in their place for their doubts of Thor's worth and honesty.

Loki had ever been a vindictive man.

The guards positioned their princes with their backs towards the wall containing the door, and when it opened they were not permitted to turn . . . until after the ceremony, none of the royal sons would see the dining hall, table of weapons, or even the faces of those who witnessed the ceremony. Heimdall's voice came steady and quiet behind them. "You may blind the claimants."

A small stab of fear raced through Loki at the messenger's words, despite being fairly sure no permanent harm would be rendered upon them. At the feel of a silken cloth being drawn over his head, covering his eyes but not his mouth, Loki allowed himself to relax. With the cloth over his eyes, Loki found his sight cut off totally, as the material formed to the sides of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones. With so many claimants none of the viewers would trust them to honestly keep their eyes shut, though Loki knew none of them would dare cheat this test.

Heimdall's voice called out "let them be brought forward," and Loki felt Ingolf take his arm firmly to guide the youngest prince into the dining hall. They moved easily to a spot on the dais, but the long royal dining table seemed to not be there - - probably moved to ease the passage of the claimants. Loki knew the table, laden with weapons and such, would still be on the raised platform.

From somewhere to Loki's far right Odin's calm voice rang out. "When called, the named prince will step forward and choose something from the table. No one is to speak or make noises. Nothing is to be done to give hints, encouragement, or even disapproval to the claimants. Once each of the princes have chosen, I will reveal the results . . . and hopefully my new heir."

After a suitably long pause, Heimdall intoned "Baldur Odinson." Not far from Loki the sound of a gentle tread came to his ears. Loki mentally followed his eldest brother's movements as the priest apparently made his way up and down the table. Finally, the crowd let out a loud, unified gasp, interrupted by Odin's roar.

"Hush! You will be silent or leave! I will not have you giving any indication of the results until all have been tested!" The Allfather's anger effectively cowed the spectators, and not one murmur rose from the audience. "Have you chosen, Prince Baldur?"

"Yes, Allfather. We have chosen," came the odd reply.

Loki recalled how Thor had formerly mentioned the hammer, Mjolnir, would sing, so perhaps Baldur found such a weapon. Suddenly, the youngest prince realized that it was quite likely Mjolnir had chosen Baldur this time around. Somehow, the thought felt disappointing; the former prostitute liked the idea of the former gladiator proving his worth as a ruler.

"Very well," Odin broke into Loki's thoughts. "Guard, assist him back to his spot, please."

The heavy tread of Volstagg sounded as the former temple guard assisted the priest back against the wall.

Once Baldur had apparently been situated, Odin called out "Thor Odinson." Beside Loki, Thor stepped out with his familiar confident step. He seemed to take far less time than Baldur and, upon his choosing, the crowd seemed to almost vibrate in response - - though no sound came from the spectators.

With a neutral tone, not giving away anything, Odin called "Prince Thor, have you chosen?"

"Yes, Allfather," Thor called back. "We have chosen." Loki heard the swish of exotic material from beside him, signaling Fandral's movement to retrieve Thor. The pair settled into their spot to Loki's right, against the wall.

To Loki's left side, Ingolf reached over and gently touched Loki's sleeve. As if on cue, Odin's voice boomed out "Loki of Asgard," a reminder that as an Omega Child, Loki belonged to all of Asgard not a specific couple.

Stepping forward confidently, Loki stretched out one hand, palm down, letting his _seidr_ flow. Feeling a faint hum, Loki turned and began to stride down the length of the large table. Sometimes his _seidr_ would fluctuate, as if responding to something specific. Other times, Loki could almost hear a voice. Once or twice, the dark prince felt nauseous, even terror emanating in waves from one or more area of the table. Upon reaching the end of the table - - Loki could sense nothing further in that direction - - he turned and began the journey back down the table, this time covering the second half in his slow, graceful journey.

A strong sense of peace overcame the twenty year old and he paused, hand outstretched, fingers curling slightly towards his palm. Soft humming, nearly audible but just below the register of hearing. Loki backed up and let his _seidr_ probe. He stepped forward again and the gentle mental song came back. A soft smile gracing his face, Loki deliberately walked past that welcome music to sense the rest of the table's offerings. Nothing else of note happened and Loki knew he'd found his match. Slowly, he turned and held out his other hand, stepping carefully back towards that sensation of a few minutes before.

Yes, she hummed once more, welcoming and gentle, with an underlying fierceness running counter-harmony to her soft song. Loki gently let his hand fall to cover the slim weapon in her sheath. Instantly, without the use of his eyes, Loki knew he'd chosen the dagger he'd so admired during Thor's initial trial. Or she had chosen the dark prince. A smile of serenity crossed Loki's beautiful features and the crowd gasped even louder than they had for Baldur's choice.

It mattered not to the young prince.

For the third time, Odin's voice called "have you made your choice, Prince Loki?" Apparently the Allfather chose not to hush the audience this time.

"Yes, Allfather," Loki replied confidently. "We have chosen." And he knew what Baldur and Thor had meant before him: the selection had been mutual, done by both weapon and wielder. A soft touch came to Loki's arm, and he allowed Ingolf to guide him back to his spot by the wall.  
The sound of weapons being removed from the table fought with the rising voices of the crowd. Onlookers whispered among themselves, but no voices rose high enough to distinguish their words from the cacophony of noise. Finally, Odin's voice rang out over the dining hall.

"Each of you have chosen an artifact to prove your worth to Asgard. Now, remove your blindfolds. I shall tell you what you hold."

Loki felt Ingolf's gentle hands remove his blindfold, drawing a deep breath in relief; he had not enjoyed the encompassing feeling of the clinging cloth. Looking down, a smile came to the raven-haired man's lips; the dagger he so coveted truly had chosen him. A soft, gentle glow emanated from the blade as Loki pulled the dagger from her sheath, silver runes etched down the gleaming surface. Next to him, Thor held Mjolnir once more, and pride swelled the dark prince's heart. That alone should put the naysayers in their place. Glancing beyond the tall blond, Loki eyed the shield in Baldur's hands . . . and wondered just how that artifact could be used in more than defense of the Nine Realms.

With a nod, Odin intoned, "Baldur, my son, you hold Svalinn, the Shield of the Sun." He gestured for Baldur to display the silver shield with the sunburst pattern embossed on and the Allfather continued, "this is an artifact used to defend Asgard from her enemies. He will emanate a cold field to crush enemy fires and is ever known as the Shield of the Bright One." He paused then nodded, looking satisfied. "A fitting artifact for a priest and protector." The crowd murmured softly, though it was not clear if they felt joy or despair at the result.

"Thor, you hold Mjolnir," Odin interrupted the onlookers. He nodded towards his second son. "She is a weapon of destruction and a tool of building. She harnesses the weather your _seidr_ hearkens to. A fitting companion for you." He nodded once at the pleased sounds from the watching crowd, letting them compare the merits of both choices.

Then Odin turned to the third prince. "Loki, you hold Angurvadal. She is a weapon of war and peace. She will herald the war by glowing bright as a sun, and she will rejoice in the peace by softly illuminating as the moon. A fitting weapon for . . . a queen." Pride warred with excitement as Loki understood immediately what Odin hinted at.

The crowd gasped and Odin held up his hands. "Silence!" When he got his demand, he went on. "Yes, in favor of the good my eldest son can do in the temple and on behalf of all Omegas, I will ask him to step back from his claim unless something happens to Thor. In face of the choice of Mjolnir, I claim Thor to be my heir. As is custom, forevermore only he who is worthy of ruling Asgard will be able to lift Mjolnir. And I thank you, Mjolnir, for allowing this testing and letting down your _seidr_ to allow any of these three to pick you up, should your _seidr_ and worthiness be matched."

The crowd stayed silent, though, and Loki smiled wide. He leaned over and whispered to his puzzled mate, "It means Mjolnir let herself be used in the test. She was ever the one who selects the next ruler, and she chose you."

With apparent sudden understanding, Thor looked proud and bowed to Loki. "And Angurvadal has chosen my proper queen?"

Loki quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. "No, your future queen and Angurvadal have come to an accord and will work together to warn and protect all of Asgard . . . perhaps fitting for an Omega Child of Asgard, think you not?"

xxx

The morning dawned bright and pleasantly warm, promising a wonderful venue for the garden feast planned to follow the royal hand fastening. A smile curved Loki's lips as he stretched luxuriously beside his still sleeping mate. Turning over, reaching for the bedside table, his hand fell almost caressingly on the unsheathed dagger, glowing like soft moonlight, sitting there. Quietly Loki greeted Angurvadal before picking her up in a confident grip. He sat up, completely nude except the tooled leather belt and ornate sheath he'd slept in, long accustomed to wearing a dagger sheath in bed. The lithe brunet slid his weapon home into her sheath then rolled over to lay his head on Thor's shoulder.

Running his fingers down the large blond's chest, caressing over the man's strong abdomen, Loki turned his face to kiss Thor's wide shoulder, eliciting a soft rumble from the sleepy man. "It's time to awaken, my love," the raven-haired man murmured, kissing the warm flesh once more. Leaning close, Loki breathed in the scent of his lover.

Thor rumbled and stretched. "A few more hours, Loki," he smiled widely at the darker man.

"Yes, and I need all of them," Loki replied with a soft laugh. He slid from their bed, stretching again, and strode towards their bathing chamber. The sound of Thor scrambling from the bed followed Loki's soft tread, and the raven-haired prince laughed again. The prince removed his belt and placed it, and its protected dagger, on the vanity near the doorway. Stepping into the shower, he welcomed Thor's larger bulk sliding in behind him, sharing the hot water and sweet-scented soap . . . and gentle, morning kisses and touches.

The bathing took longer than it should have, but Loki didn't begrudge the love-making which had interfered. Rather, as he finally made his way into their open wardrobe room, Loki's body seemed to hum with energy. Walking to the free-standing clothing frame kept towards the back of the large room, Loki reached for a white, silk-wrapped package hanging there. He took the entire parcel out to lay on the bed, opening the silken cover to reveal his hand fastening outfit: a matching pair of trousers and knee-length tunic of palest jade with silver and gold worked belt. Silver and gold braid adorned the sleeves, hem, and neckline, as well as the waistline and cuffs. Stockings of softest silk colored to match the outfit would be enhanced by soft leather shoes of pale jade. Soon someone was due to arrive and tend to his hair, weaving silver, gold, and jade ribbons into the curls, forming a long, decorative braid - - acceptable for a man, but lovely enough for the mate of a prince. Looking up, towards the vanity mirror across the room, Loki repressed a shudder at his image, though he, alone, appeared in the mirror.

Turning his back on the vanity, Loki began to dress, starting with his stockings then trousers and tunic. He turned his smile towards Thor, who finally padded, completely nude, past him towards the clothing stores. "The tailor wrapped your outfit in white silk, Thor," he called. Hearing his mate's grunt of acknowledgement, Loki moved back to the vanity, drew a deep breath, and reached for his dagger belt. The brunet braced himself for the sight of Thor passing behind him in the mirror and counted slowly to himself as he watched his large, beautiful mate make his way to the bed.

With a brief glance, Thor's eyes met Loki's in the reflective surface than slid away, back to his own outfit. Loki continued to count slowly, silently, watching the man's every move and reminding himself that his mate would not hurt him, would protect and care for him. Finally, slowly, Loki changed his dagger sheath to his dress belt and fastened the belt over his hand fastening outfit, feeling Angurvadal settle comfortably sheathed on his left hip. Confidence filled him, and Loki glanced back into the mirror. _'Does she bring soothing peace as well as a warning of war?'_ The answer came to him as a feeling rather than a statement: yes, she does. Loki smiled in acceptance.

A gentle rap at the door drew the attention of both princes and Thor boomed out, sounding happy, "enter!"

Swinging open the door, Fandral strode into the room and grinned. "Pale blue? A good color for you, Thor, my friend." Turning, he nodded approvingly. "You look lovely, Loki. I'm here to bring Thor to the garden while you finish up, if I have your permission to steal him away?"

Loki cocked a haughty eyebrow and turned to face Fandral rather than the mirror. "As long as you return him to me, _untouched_ , by the time of the ceremony. I am the one marrying him, not you," the prince responded, amusement weaving through his voice.

Fandral threw his head back and laughed, letting his hands fall to his hips. Grinning at the darker man, the guard flirted, "oh, it is not _Thor_ I would marry if given the choice of the pair of you."

"He is _my_ mate," Thor growled, his tone playful yet warning.

The royal guard let out another laugh and grasped Thor's arm, steering the man towards the door. Loki watched the pair, though he spent the short time studying his mate rather than their friend. Thor, dressed identically to Loki, had been clothed in pale sapphire. He'd pulled his hair back in a simple leather thong, which made sense since, though long, the blond's hair was much shorter than Loki's. The warrior carried Mjolnir loosely, comfortably, in his right hand as he strode from the room.

A chubby brown-haired woman bowed to the pair then entered the room with a murmur of respect. She bowed over her arm to Loki and quickly set about fixing his dark curls, which caressed just below his shoulders. As she worked, she remained perfectly silent, not yet comfortable enough around any of the restored princes to chatter in a friendly, informal manner. At the moment, Loki appreciated the quiet from the woman he'd only met once before, during the vetting of the servants that would attend him regularly; normally, he cared for his own hair and so little needed a regular hairdresser.

As she made the final twist, tying off the thick braid, Loki reached up and placed a hand over her's, drawing it forward where he could see it. He turned the plump, pink appendage over to study her work-worn palm. Slowly, the prince lifted his ice green eyes to meet her proud grey ones, no sign of fear or humility in those steel-colored depths.

Loki smiled. "You are an Omega," he commented softly." He knew female Omegas were more common than males, but he had still only met two in his short life. "Did Mother send only Omegas to me after I refused the tailor?"

"Yes, my prince," she clarified, subtly shifting her generous frame, plump but not overly so, and well endowed. "I am from the temple and arrived with several others. You met us all at the same time, but the perfumed air was so heavy, I do not think our scents were very discernible."

Turning on his vanity stool, Loki looked over the brown-haired woman, rather plain at the moment but she would look fairly pretty in finery and a less blunt hairstyle. "Do you, too, spurn any idea of being mated?" he asked, referring to the opinion held by his personal healer, Lady Eir.

Smiling at last, the servant shook her head and eased her hand from Loki's gentle grasp. "I do not spurn it, my prince. But I wish to find a good mate who will love me and our children. I know my choices are very limited, as most prospective mates do not travel to the temple, but I saw my opportunity when told an Omega chose to live at the palace and would need caring for. I am clever at hair but can do hard labor if needed." Her tone did not imply begging; the woman stated her skills calmly, letting her merits display her worth rather than a clever tongue plead her case.

Respecting such forthrightness, his personal preference for manipulation notwithstanding, Loki nodded. "Feel free to borrow some finery and attend my hand fastening . . . and give me your name." Loki rose. He stood above her by a mere four inches . . . a tall woman, as he stood almost six foot two inches. "You will be safe from accosting at my party and may talk freely with anyone you wish: Alpha, Beta, Omega, or Gamma."

"Hildegund," the young woman stated. "And thank you, my prince. I will be honored to attend your party and diligently try to find a mate."

"You do not have to find one here," Loki rolled his eyes. "I merely offer an opportunity. If you join the diners in the evening, you may meet even more possible mates, but the atmosphere can be raucous and unfit for an Omega at times."

Bowing over her arm once more, Hildegund said, "none the less, my prince, I will take full advantage of this opportunity. The legend states that an Omega's hand fastening is a time when true love blossoms."

"It does?" Loki felt surprised. He had not yet come across that tale and now wished very much to research it. With a smile for his servant, Loki nodded. "I shall study the Omega legends when I find time, be sure. But I can believe in true love . . . especially when the Omega hand fastening is my own."

Hildegund hummed in return and nodded, her chubby face wreathed in a friendly, pleased smile. "I am glad you have found love, my prince." She fell silent once more, as if uncertain what more to say.

Loki took the burden of conversation from her, turning and stepping from the room. "I will look for you after my ceremony, Hildegund." He offered a smile over his shoulder then joined Ingolf in the corridor to walk towards the grand entrance of the gardens.

Among the riot of colorful flowers, dotting lush green grass, Loki stepped softly towards a canopied pavilion set in a smooth, flat central location often used for garden parties at the palace. Guests would arrive all throughout the morning, so Loki didn't look for any specific faces among the crowd . . . but one. He always, in any large group, kept a watchful eye out for any indication of his dam, Laufey. Soon, however, the brunet's stress eased as he saw the High Priestess Freyja standing with the Allfather and Allmother, three of the most powerful _seidr_ users he’d ever known. The twenty year old spent the rest of the morning by his parents and the High Priestess, greeting people as they approached and generally making himself available and pleasant to all. About half an hour after arriving, Loki's mate jointed them to greet guests and discuss light topics.

A large, black-haired man dressed in rich fabrics and an over-abundance of jewelry approached the couple. He tucked his hands into his wide leather and silver-etched belt and offered a large grin. "Well, my princes, a happy day today, is it not?"

Thor laughed. "Indeed it is. A more glorious day could not be had for our hand fastening."

The large man nodded, "yes . . . yes . . . controlling weather _seidr_ can be truly helpful for such times." He winked a deep brown eye knowingly.

Puzzlement crossed Thor's tone as he said, "I did not change this morn's weather."

"Of course not," the man winked again then chuckled. "And a betrothal from birth always keeps the goods in the family . . . clever to get your Omega pregnant right off to ensure an heir."

Loki felt anger settle over him, and Thor's mouth dropped open in obvious shock; however, a gentle, admonishing voice from behind the couple drew attention from the pair.

"You confuse things, as the uninformed often do. You see, I was the one betrothed, not my brothers.” Baldur smiled softly. “The Alpha does not do the choosing and so an heir is never assured unless the Omega wishes to allow the child to become an heir. An Omega's child is first and foremost permitted any occupation available on Asgard or the other Nine Realms . . . and often chooses the temple to avoid uneducated, backwards-thinking people. And an Omega only breeds with the mate designated by divine intervention. To question such a pairing is akin to questioning the _Norns_ themselves." The young priest offered a serene smile, though the silent sympathy in his sapphire eyes let everyone know that he felt the man's education and intelligence sorely lacking.

"Humph!" the large man frowned, indignant. "You are a rude one . . . for being just a priest," he sneered at the golden-haired man dressed in white linen.

"I treat all with courtesy and an attempt at understanding, even those who are condescending, rude, and insulting." Baldur bowed over his arm to the man in a sign of utmost respect, though when he straightened, the eldest prince added, "your attitude has been indulged long enough, my lord. As you seem adverse to this joyous event, I shall have you escorted to an area more amenable to your bias. Volstagg!"

As the dark-haired man sputtered and protested, the even larger red-haired royal guard stepped forward, carrying Svalinn for the priest and a large axe for himself. Like a massive bull, Volstagg strode directly at the man, who squeaked and backed up. The redhead continued to herd the recalcitrant man until both disappeared from view.

"Imbecile!" Loki seethed.

"Often they swarm to official functions," intoned Odin in an undertone. "And they ever try to disrupt events. The happier the occasion, the more seem to erupt. Ignore him and enjoy your hand fastening, Loki . . . Thor, but recall his face as a possible dissenter in your future."

The youngest prince nodded, green eyes narrowed as he still watched the merrily talking crowd through which the dark-haired man had been driven.

Baldur touched his little brother’s shoulder gently. “It is time for the hand fastening, Loki.”

Looking at the gentle priest, Loki forced himself to relax and smile. “Finally,” he murmured.

Odin clapped his hands and called out “Peace, friends. We are starting!” All eyes turned to the Allfather; all voices fell respectfully silent. The guests turned, eager joy practically vibrating through the onlookers.

Softly, Baldur instructed his brothers, “both of you hold out your _seidr_ hand, the one you use for most things.” Without question, Loki gracefully stretched out his left hand in front of him, while Thor thrust out his right. Nodding, Baldur said “Thor, stand beside Loki so you are able to match your hand to his.” The tall, well-built former gladiator moved to stand beside his mate, smiling at the crowd then turning his attention on his older brother once more. He slid his outstretched hand and arm over the smaller, more delicate one of the darker prince. The former prostitute turned a smile on his mate and turned his hand to entwine fingers with Thor’s. Their brother smiled, pleasure settling over his face.

Stepping around the couple so that his back was to the courtiers and he faced the pair, Baldur raised his hands, a trio of white ribbons in one. Golden glints trailing through his hair, his voice still quiet but heard in the hush of the garden, the Omega priest clearly called out, “the joining of two mates is a precious sacrament, to be celebrated and honored. With these ties, let these men be bound by their love and life blood.” Lowering the ribbons, Baldur examined to the couple with a serious look. “A union of lives is a promise before all.“ As he spoke, Baldur wove the ribbon around the joined hands and arms of the mated pair. “To protect, to defend, to respect, to honor, to aid, to support, to advise, and to counsel, through all the trials and gifts presented by this life. Live well, live long, and may your joining be as blessed as the stars are varied and numbered.”

With the last spoken words, Baldur lay the tail end of the triple ribbons over the back of Thor’s hand. A glow of _seidr_ rose up, as if from the ribbons themselves, bright, shining, as color ran through each ribbon: one of dark jade, one of electric yellow, and the third which appeared to transition continually from deep aquamarine to light turquoise. The _seidr_ seared into the flesh of the couple . . . though Loki felt no pain. In a near-blinding flash the three ribbons disappeared and a jolt of pressure shot through the dark prince. Thor glanced at him, eyes worried, and the brunet was certain the large blond had felt the odd sensation as well. A faint woven mark, as an old, deep burn scar, traced over their joined hands, glowing briefly, then fading completely. The ribbons had disappeared.

Lifting his hands into the air, palms out toward the spectators, Baldur called out, “and what we have tied together, nothing may tear asunder.”

“Oh, many things can, I believe.”

The delight of the crowd fractured at the comment. A tall, blue-skinned man, taller than any other there, strode right past the suddenly dozing guards. The large, gaunt man glared at those in the central clearing, ignoring all others around them, his red eyes narrowed and intense. Though dressed in the very finest of clothing and jewelry, Loki held no doubts who the familiar interloper was who had come to disrupt the celebration.

“Of course,” the stranger continued coldly, “infidelity is the first betrayal which comes to mind.” The man eyed the former prostitute, and Loki felt a chill run through him. “Lies often work well to cause disharmony. But death . . . death will do nicely, I think,” and the man threw an unexpected bolt of blue _seidr_ at the young couple.

Moving swiftly, as gracefully as in a long-practiced dance, Loki drew Angurvadal and threw himself in front of his lifemate, the _seidr_ slamming into the blade and causing the lithe brunet to stagger into Lady Freyja. Thor let out a roar and lifted his empty right hand just as Frigga threw her body over the stunned Freyja. Loki rolled to his feet, crouching. Odin raised both hands over his head. Thunder echoed around the garden, clashing from two different fronts and causing the crowd to scream. Baldur threw his hands up and called out “inside the walls. Now!” as _seidr_ flowed from his hands in a fluttering protective field. The crowd surged, many towards the palace as instructed, while a handful protectively shielded the civilians.

Sneering, Laufey flicked his fingers and his _seidr_ pulled from behind trees and large bushes, rising from the grasses, and spraying up from the flowing waters all around. The madman sent his energies woven through natural weapons to siege the small group of defenders. “You dare rise up against me, whore! I birthed you! You, planted like a malignant seed to destroy me from the inside!”

Lifting his head and dagger, Loki noted the insanity in his dam’s eyes and realized this attack was no longer about Odin. Laufey wanted to destroy the son he’d brought into the world . . . apparently convinced Loki had destroyed everything . . . did that include the destruction of Farbauti in the man’s twisted memories?

A rip of yellow slammed across the garden as Thor lashed out in a wild _seidr_ attack aimed at Laufey. Rolling to his feet, Loki took one step forward to aid his mate in the battle when his mother’s voice called out “No! _Ast_ , down!” Obeying instinctively, Loki threw himself back to the ground, but pain ripped through the side of his head and an explosion of blue-white light nearly burned his eyes.

Darkness encompassed the brunet’s mind as he collapsed at the feet of his husband.


	22. A Fate Decided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor . . .

As his mate collapsed to the ground, Thor's heart seized in his chest. He let out a roar of fear and rage, followed by a surge of triumph as Mjolnir slammed into his right palm. Electrical energy pulsed through him. Lifting Mjolnir, intent on destroying the man who had obviously attacked Loki with an intent to kill, Thor felt Mjolnir's answering song of vengeance.

"Thor!" Odin called out, not distracting the trained warrior but alerting him. "Try to capture not kill. He must be tried for his crimes!"

The demand felt unreasonable to Thor, who could still see his mate lying, bleeding and unconscious, in the grass, the Allmother standing protectively in front of Loki as Lady Freyja crouched low over the slender man. Thor shook his head; the only victim was not his mate . . . their unborn infant had been attacked as well.

But after almost a lifetime of fighting under the command of someone else, giving mercy even if he didn't feel it had been earned, Thor let out a frustrated growl and obeyed his father's entreaty. He flung himself across the area, letting Mjolnir pull him into a melee battle rather than using their combined _sedir_ to attack from afar.

A sheet of water pulsed upwards, freezing as it shot to the sky, directly in the path Thor had set. Untrained with his new weapon, unused to flying, Thor could not bank quick enough and had only enough time to curl his shoulders and back, protecting his head. He slammed directly into the thick, jagged ice wall. A slice of icy fire tore down his back and shoulder, and Thor tumbled to the ground with a grunt, panting.

Lifting his face, anger and hatred across his broad features, Thor began to push himself from the ground.

A strong hand on his head brought pause to the former gladiator and he looked up. Baldur stood above him, an intent look on his frowning face. He held Svalinn at the ready, a wave of cold, equal to that of the ice wall, emanating from the brightly glowing shield. "Are you badly injured, brother?" Baldur asked quietly, never taking his eyes off the ice wall that continued to grow, sharpening spikes springing forth with each moment that passed.

"Do not tell me that you created that wall, brother," Thor growled.

"If I had, I would certainly admit to it, Thor. But I did not. Laufey's _sedir_ went wild and uncontrollable when he went mad. But even before he lost control, he was registered as an ice user. To control the other nature _sedirs_ . . . that was beyond him, a gift of Farbauti's not Laufey's." The eldest son of Odin offered a hand up to Thor without looking down at the younger man.

"Then how is it Laufey uses a dead man's _sedir_?" Thor questioned, his eyes roving the increasing edges of the wall, which seemed to curve outwards . . . away from Laufey and towards the defenders. "He means to close us in, brother."

Baldur nodded, sunlight glinting off the golden strands in his blond hair. "Yes, I fear you are correct. Neither of us is trained well enough to get past this _sedir_ wall, are we?"

Thor growled again, his only acknowledgement of his brother's words. Blood ran slowly down his back in an all too familiar flow from his youth in the arena, and, like then, Thor pushed the injuries from his mind. "I may not be used to _sedir_ or fighting in ice, but I can take him down . . . if I can get to him," Thor finally muttered.

"Then, by all means, let us break through this wall, my princes," stated a determined feminine voice.

The thunder prince glanced over, not immediately recognizing the woman with bald scarred head and intense golden-brown eyes, dressed in a flowing tunic and trousers of deep blue with matching boots. In an instant his mind flashed back to a very beautiful woman in the _House of Laufey_ , and Thor breathed in shock, "Lady Sif?" He glanced at the sword in her hand as it caught the sun, a reflection of strong light tracing down the polished blade.

"Aye, Prince Thor,” she answered with a nod, her lips baring her teeth in a near feral growl.

Behind her stepped up several others: Volstagg with his huge double-sided axe, Heimdall and Fandral and Ingolf, armed with swords, and Hogun, with a deadly looking spiked mace. "We are here to fight, my prince," Sif added.

Gripping his war hammer, nodding in agreement, Thor set his eyes back on the thickening ice wall. "Then by all means, my friends, let us fight!" He let out a great roar and lightning cracked through the sky, a rip of thunder rumbling through the few still assembled.

Most of the group launched themselves at the _sedir_ -woven ice barrier, cracking and hacking it in earnest. However, Heimdall and Baldur held their attack and began circling the edges of the curving ice wall. Another figure moving forward drew Thor’s eye for a moment: Odin, creeping after Baldur, spear at the ready, eyes intently watching beyond the edge of the barrier. Confident that his brother, armed only with a shield, would be protected by their father, and that his mate was being protected by their mother with a pair of daggers, Thor went back to his task.

As the larger redhead beside him went into a backswing, Thor took a swing with Mjolnir and let out the roar of electricity straight into a crack forming under Volstagg’s broad axe. A loud groaning wail issued from the deep ice. Still vibrating from the energy that had torn through his body, the blond warrior lowered Mjolnir and took a deep breath. Hogun slammed his great war mace into the weakened area and a series of cracking shots sounded before a mighty rending. The ice calved, chucks falling to the still green grass below.

Taking advantage of the shattering, cracking barrier, Sif ran hard and flung herself feet first towards the ever widening hole. Her boots slamming on the edges of the opening aided in cracking it wider and she slipped through the opening. Fandral followed her maneuver, enlarging the break ever wider and landing on the other side where Sif had tumbled to a crouch. Thor took the opportunity to throw himself through the hole, Mjolnir held in front of him to expand the ice crack. Behind him, the ice barrier finally tumbled to the ground, scatting dangerously sharp chunks across the once pristine summer garden.

However, Thor discovered Mjolnir had secrets she had only once revealed, for when he came through the shattering ice, the former gladiator did not tumble to the ground; he flew. Pushing the unusual groundless feeling aside and embracing the adrenaline rush which accompanied the surge of power, Thor let out a roar and aimed the warhammer towards his foe.

Below, the tall, blue-skinned, red-eyed madman used what appeared to be a long blade of jagged ice to attack Baldur, who raised Svalinn in defense. Odin stood to the side, watching, waiting, but not interfering with his eldest son and the deranged Omega. Ingolf had circled around behind Laufey, but the former brothel guard lay in a crumpled heap, blood seeping from his head, apparently a victim of that ice weapon. Golden-eyed Heimdall was locked in combat with a pair of palace guards, their eyes bright blue and dazed; the palace messenger appeared to try to avoid permanently damaging the pair of armored men. As the other four warriors ran to join the fray, another woman, solidly built and dressed in celebration finery, ran over wielding a large mallet often used in the kitchen for tenderizing meat.

With a snarl, Laufey swung his ice blade at the golden-haired priest again, the blade skittering off the shield, causing sparks of ice to spray in all directions. “Light _seidr_ using ice magic?” he growled, eyes narrowed in apparent fury, “how dare you even pretend to be a priest with your dishonesty!” Red eyes seemed to flare in his deranged anger and he swung again, twisting his wrist to slice behind the edge of Svalinn.

Thor, in silent commune with Mjolnir, turned his trajectory towards the battle below them, summer blue eyes widening slightly at the sight of a long tear of red welling along Baldur’s arm. Thor’s eyes narrowed and he let out a roar, channeling his lightning _sedir_ through the conduit of Mjolnir. A fork of pure brilliance, white-blue and sparking hot, cut through the air to strike the blade in the enemy’s hand. Letting out a scream, dropping the melting ice shard and shaking his wrist apparently to dispel the electrical jolt of pain, Laufey turned his head up to glare at Thor, who slammed heavily onto the ice-strewn grass hard enough to leave a small crater in the once pristine garden, legs bent to take the impact, head bent and hammer firmly planted.

The large blond slowly lifted his head, a fierce glare in vivid blue eyes, as he focused solely on the man who had birthed, raised, imprisoned, abused, and then tried to kill Thor’s beloved mate.

Even with his mysteriously enhanced _sedir_ , their numbers overwhelmed Laufey, driving him back. He snarled, his once beautiful face twisted in his hatred and madness. Lifting his right hand, other hand falling to a hidden object tucked inside his decorative jeweled belt, the slave keeper glared directly at Thor, apparently his biggest threat. Hand beginning to glow an eerie blue, Laufey let a smile twist across his lips.

"You will join your whore in death, slave!"

"Yes," Thor roared, "but it will not be this day!" The mighty blond warrior brought his hammer smashing down into the ground, causing a rippling then a shuddering as an earthquake grew; the cataract tore through the once lush foliage faulting directly towards their foe and knocking him, unbalanced, to his knees.

Concentration broken, enhanced though it had been, the _seidr_ glow petered off and Laufey gasped, red eyes widening in the first signs of uncertainty. Then those malevolent eyes shunted closed as the Lady Sif slammed the flat of her blade down on the kneeling man's unprotected, bald head. Her blow slightly nicked Laufey's skin, but more importantly it sent him tumbling to the ground, unconscious and unable to wreak more havoc that noon.

Heaving for the breath the struggle had knocked from them, Volstagg and Baldur began to bind Laufey, arms pulled behind his back, palms pressed together in an awkward manner. Wrapping his fingers in the cloth of his tunic, the priest searched the prisoner's belt and pulled out a small green and blue sphere. He frowned and presented it to the Lady Freyja, who appeared equally cautious when she wrapped her own hand in her gown and took the relic.

Ingolf ran his hand over the finely crafted belt around his former employer's lean hips, frowning and muttering under his breath, "runes . . . in what language?"

Thor allowed himself a glower at his vanquished foe then stepped quickly to his still bleeding, still unconscious mate's side. The mighty blond sank to his knees beside his lover, carefully taking Loki's limp hand. Thor turned worried, helpless summer storm eyes to his mother across from him. "He will recover? And our child?"

Frigga met his eyes with worry, her _sedir_ glowing softly as she worked, desperation in her every move, to help her adopted son. “I need to bring him to the healing hall, to Lady Eir,” she said, lifting a hand to wipe at her face; blood tracing her cheek and across the back of her hand where she’d been hit by shards of ice. “But I dare not move him, Thor.” Frigga moved her hand back down to Loki’s abdomen, her green _sedir_ energy glowing strong. “I need her here.”

Nodding firmly, worry racing through every muscle, Thor stepped back and lifted Mjolnir. Working on newly acquired knowledge, as well as raw instinct, he began to spin Mjolnir in a circle, her strap around his wrist as he controlled the rapid circles. Lifting his hand at the apex of his spin, Thor and Mjolnir thrust into the air, like a reversed bolt of lightning, electricity thrumming around the warrior and his matched weapon.

The sensation, the freedom, barely graced his mind as Thor flew up to one of the over-looking balconies above the garden. He landed on the out-thrust of masonry and strode in, without thought to who occupied the suite. As his feet hit the ground, Thor broke into a run and tore through the rooms, into the hallway, and raced down corridor and stairwell to arrive, shortly, at the healer hall, where the medical staff were busy aiding those injured in the preliminary strike. Three guards, slumped and twitching in _sedir_ twisted slumber, lay on emergency cots side by side.

Focused on aiding his fallen mate, Thor strode through the controlled chaos until he found the woman he sought. “Lady Eir,” the large blond glanced at the patient she tended then met her worried eyes. “Loki is injured and Mother says he cannot be moved.” The prince offered another worried look for the man seated by the healer’s side.

“Can’t be moved?” the palace servant asked. “Lady Eir, go to the prince. My wounds are nothing compared to such.”

A frown twisted the Omega healer’s face but she nodded and collected some supplies. She turned to one of her fellow healers. “I am going to the gardens to aid people.” With that the woman turned and strode from the room, followed by Thor on her heels.

“The way is block by torn ground and ice,” the warrior warned. “I can fly you there.”

The woman nodded and, without warning, wrapped an arm around Thor’s waist, holding tightly. “As quick as may be,” she instructed.

With a nod, Thor repeated his actions of minutes ago, carrying the older woman into the air and out the wide garden doors, over the torn, hazardous mess the garden had become. He carefully set them down close to where his mate lay, still unconscious, still being tended by the Allmother.

Lady Eir sank immediately to her knees, adding her _sedir_ to Frigga’s. The women worked in anxious silence as the blond Alpha hovered close by, watching their every move, every attempt to diagnose and heal the fallen Omega. Beyond their immediate circle the self-designated defenders began clearing a path to the palace, Ingolf and Heimdall dragging a subdued and heavily bound, stripped, Laufey with them. Baldur stepped softly up to his little brother’s side and placed a hand on the broader man’s shoulder, standing silent vigil with the worried man.

At last, Odin strode over to the small circle around Loki. The Allfather asked, almost gentle sounding, “will he live? Will he wake?”

Lady Eir looked up briefly then back down. “It is not certain, My King. The _sedir_ which did this is twisted by a foul energy.”

“Runes,” Baldur informed them. “Ingolf saw runes scribed on his clothing.”

“Until I can unweave what was woven,” Frigga said, still concentrating on keeping her youngest son alive, “we will be unable to awaken him . . . and this sleep drains his energies.”

“What can I do?” Thor asked immediately, dropping to a knee beside his mate, reaching to touch Loki’s arm while the women worked around him.

“You can produce an heir,” Odin intoned, his manner once more withdrawn, strict and forbidding.

“I have,” Thor looked up, frowning. “I have a mate and child . . .”

“Neither of which may live through this. The people will be terrified. You will need to produce another heir.”

“Father!” Thor’s voice was harsh with his anguish and disbelief. He turned to his mother for her support, but her concentration remained wholly on Loki.

Odin reached down and placed a firm grip on Thor’s shoulder. “Listen to me, my son. And pay heed. A royal person never has a right to his own life. His life belongs to the people he serves. This attack will send fear throughout the land and our people will wonder if we are at war. They will think that the next attack will come to their own homes. If the heir’s mate can be struck down at the bonding, who is safe?”

Preventing Thor from responding, Odin dropped to one knee, his eyes worried yet his manner firm. “You need to sire another child as soon as you may. We can keep word of Loki’s injuries to a minimum if we hurry, but word will already have leaked that the prince is injured. If we keep him from the public and produce a healthy child of your blood as your heir, fears will be assuaged.”

Thor raised confused, angry, and horrified laced eyes to meet his father’s concerned ones. “But you speak as if Loki will not waken . . . will not live.”

Odin gave Thor’s shoulder a painful shake, squeezing. “You will obey, my son, for your people. If Loki and your child survives, that will be a blessing we will welcome. But the people must not know how serious he is injured, how vulnerable we have become.”

“We were lax,” Thor slowly said, understanding some of what his father said. “But I do not . . .”

“In order for the people to think we merely keep Loki safe in his quarters, to convince them your chosen queen is not in a life-threatening coma, you must produce an heir. Those who are suspicious will demand to know if the child is truly yours. Thus, the babe will need to pass a paternity test, revealing you as the father. When that occurs, no one will be concerned who is proven as the mother.”

Never the quickest student, but not a stupid man, Thor pointed out his father’s flaw. “Thus, we must trust a woman to never tell this secret?” He wanted to rail against lying with anyone other than Loki, producing children with any but his mate. But Thor knew Odin would not listen, and no one present seemed inclined to challenge the Allfather’s decision.

“No,” Odin answered Thor’s challenge. “Not a woman. A male Omega.”

Thor cringed and shook his head. “We face the same problem, Father, whether this mother be a woman or a man. He will still be . . .”

“Baldur,” Odin supplied, surprising a glance from the women as well as the princes. The King of Asgard continued, firmly, “Baldur is a male Omega and can produce your heir for you. You are not bonded, Baldur, are you?” Odin’s voice took on a tone that seemed to warn that Baldur better not be bonded.

Surprise laced the priest’s eyes and he shook his head. “No, father, I am not bonded. But, Thor _is_ part of a very public bond. He may be unable to knot me or impregnate me.” The eldest prince talked in a neutral, soft manner, as if detaching his own emotions from the discussion . . . from the idea that he had basically been ordered by his father to mate with his little brother to beget an heir.

A fierce frown crossed the Allfather’s face and he dropped his hand from Thor’s shoulder, eyes meeting Baldur’s. A moment of silence stretched between the men, wove around the frantically working women. Finally, with a firm nod, Odin declared, “if you cannot get with child by Thor, you will become my heir and get with child by another man.”

Shock slapped the brothers and Thor sucked in a harsh breath as Baldur gasped.

Odin nodded. “If Thor cannot produce an heir, he cannot take the throne. You will have to forgo the priesthood and become heir. It is necessary for the throne to have an heir or there will be chaos . . . created by a madman.”

Thor turned his summer sky eyes onto his older brother, seeing the misery reflected in those sapphire depths. He opened his mouth, unsure what to say, how to protest, when Baldur spoke softly, just as firmly as his father.

“I will do this, Allfather. If Loki is determined to be in a deep coma or dead, I understand his child cannot live, it is too soon. Thus, I will lie with Thor the day after the healers declare Loki cannot be saved.” Raising eyes to look at his sire, Baldur added, “however, if in the one mating I cannot bear Thor’s child, then I will lie with the mate of my choice to produce an heir and accept my new position in life as future king.”

“I will gather worthy men for you to chose from, my son. Men who can rule well.” Odin rose to his feet but paused when Baldur shook his head firmly.

“No, father. I will rule. I can sire children as well as bear them. I will choose a queen to bestow an heir upon.” Baldur met his father’s gaze, equally determined to have his say. “I will give up my priesthood if needed for Asgard, but I will choose the mate to spend my life with.”

Odin nodded, accepting his eldest son’s decree. “Very well. You will be my heir and choose a queen.”

“ _If_ ,” Baldur stressed, eyes narrowing, “Loki is declared unsavable. I will not take my brother’s throne or oust his queen if there remains hope for Loki and the babe.” Baldur turned at last to the women and dropped to his knees beside his mother. “Now, let me lend my aid to save these lives, Lady Eir. Tell me what I can do.”

Slowly, Thor backed away, letting the three _sedir_ weavers work without interference. He felt like railing against his father’s decrees, his father’s certainty that Loki would die or never awaken. Logically, the former gladiator understood the ruler’s concerns for the smooth transition of rulership, but did he have to make such edicts at the side of the injured victim?

Softly, eyes filled with a misery echoed by building grey clouds and the heavy pressure of an incoming storm, Thor silently begged the Norns to save his mate and child.


End file.
